


Parallel Lines

by marvelshtrash



Category: American (US) Actor RPF, Chris Evans (actor)- Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Camille is a quick talker Chris has got to keep up, Camille is mixed bc my friend was, Camille's mind is heavy, Dodger Evans - Freeform, Dont worry Chris is too, F/M, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Scott Evans - Freeform, Self-Esteem Issues, Sensuality, Slow Burn, They will share each other's loads, and feelings, closet feelings, dont worry he can, football playing, from both Chris and Camille, im gonna ride this train of nonsense until it leaves my brain, it will definitely be implied though, like really slow burn sorry but im a slut for those, lisa evans - Freeform, might be some smut/sex but ive never written it we shall see, no beta we die like men, set around infinity war/endgame filming, taking some liberties with the timeline bc why not, will update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2020-07-27 13:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20046943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelshtrash/pseuds/marvelshtrash
Summary: “You overestimate my intelligence.”“I do not i.e. I know on odd days you can walk and chew gum at the same time”, she mocked playfully.“So that’s the bar you have set for men? No wonder you’re single.”“I’m single because I am sick of people telling me I need a man.” Camille countered while taking a sip of beer. And lo and behold, beer still tasted like piss water. She was glad to see some things never change.“You don’t need a man Camille.” Chris took the beer out of her hand and winked leeringly. “You need a champion.”---Camille and Chris decided to be friends but they aren't that good at personal space. Chris wants everything but Camille has to say goodbye to someone first.





	1. The Wedding Pt. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story refused to leave my head no matter how hard I tried. That has never happened before so I decided to do something about it. The character Camille is heavily based off my friend who died recently so maybe this is my way of coping. You ever meet or know someone who you feel would get along with another. I feel like my dearly departed friend would have gotten along with Chris Evans. Opposites attract, at least thats what the saying is. Anyway, this is my first time writing fanfic so there is gonna be a lot of mistakes im sorry. 
> 
> Positive feedback, kudos, constructive criticism etc. would be much appreciated. Hell, I'll even take insults at this point. I just wanted to write out this story and share it with others :)

She hated weddings. No, that was a little harsh and not really true. What she hated was the ability of weddings to cause bad moods. Everyone gets all done up—make and all and everyone still finds something to complain about or someone to compare themselves to.

The blushing bride is smiling and thanking everyone for the gifts that she told them to get and all you can think is “god, I wonder how badly she wants a cheeseburger right now”. Or you look at the workers and think, “wow that waiter is gonna die for giving Bridezilla’s lieutenant aka Mommy one olive instead of two for her martini”. Personally, Camille always felt weddings were a waste of time but she supposed that the copious amounts of alcohol in addition to wedding goggles did distract people long enough to fool themselves into believing that the $30,000 plus they spent for one night was worth the infinite feuding between the newly combined family and their future offspring.

Ok fine…Camille was being depressing and cynical but, in her defense, she hadn’t been to one of these in 4 years and she’s never been skilled at being sociable with new people. Damn it, Peter would say she was being annoying but you know, lovingly. That was their relationship. See, when you’ve been together since 16 years old and went through adulthood together, roasting each other becomes a necessary ritual.

Well, it was, Camille thought.

Having your boyfriend/partner/best friend die at 24 years old didn’t make the smiles go round. But Camille knew Peter would be proud of her. Because he told her every day when she came home from work, “Honey, I am so proud of you”. Even when she didn’t come home when she said she would or when she was so stressed that she couldn’t even handle another human being for more than 5 minutes. Peter always said, without hesitation, “Babe, I am so proud of you and I love you. Just smile and breathe and don’t scare anyone”. Going to the FBI’s special agent trainee program straight out of undergrad and right into the FBI’s Operational Medicine Program didn’t allow for planned leisure time even weekly date nights. Even so, the relationship worked. Camille never really figured out if her and Peter stayed together because it was comfortable or because they truly couldn’t live without each other but it didn’t really matter in then end. Peter made her happy and helped Camille be the best version of herself and vice versa.

Back to the wedding and away from depressing reminiscence, Camille didn’t know anyone here; the bride had a friend who had another friend who was married to a guy from SWAT who Camille worked with on occasion. After Guy from SWAT saw no ring and no ‘Mrs.’ attached to her name, he insisted on Camille celebrating the long-awaited nuptials of his very distant friend. I’m sure he meant well.

As the reception continued into the night, Camille debated when it would be acceptable to take her leave so she could go back home and finish the reports she had been procrastinating doing when she felt a pair of eyes on her. Camille thought (objectively speaking, of course) they were beautiful eyes that perfectly complimented a handsome face and even more attractive body. All muscle and dark brown hair, said specimen was wearing a dark blue form-fitting suit with a black bowtie and a smirking boy-ish smile to match his frat boy-like persona. Sitting next to him was an equally attractive man that seemed to be more interested in the reception that his companion. Camille designated stranger as Specimen and as he continued to stare, Camille debated on him win the stare down showdown when she heard Peter’s voice in her head.

_Come on, give him a chance._

Even when he was dead and gone, Peter continued to act as a meddlesome Jiminy Cricket for Camille. But optimism and taking chances was not her role in their relationship nor her strong suit. Also, she never really learned how to flirt. Her and Peter just kinda fell together and somehow it worked out. One of the Unwritten Rules of Relationships that Camille had thought up when she was drunk but still rang true when sober was once you were together for a long amount of time, you forgot how to flirt.

_It’s been 6 years Camille. Flirt with someone and have some fun._

Camille defensively thought, ‘I have plenty of fun thank you very much’.

_Doing what you hermit? Playing with dogs and cats at the shelters on your ONE day off? How about some human interaction? Besides, you need the practice. Even after 20 years jeez when are you gonna get your life together?_

Mentally rolling her eyes and brooding, Camille thought that was ridiculous. She wasn’t planning on dating him. What if he was a creep? What if he didn’t believe in evolution? Or worse, he was a Trump supporter.

_Then finally have some sex and get some tension out. It’s probably what he is looking for too._

Feeling called out, Camille mentally started a list: firstly, speaking to pets was a perfectly valid social interaction. They are better than people and we don’t deserve them. Secondly, she didn’t do one-night stands.

_You’ve never tried. But fine, don’t have sex with him. Just talk to him, he is really cute._

Childishly, Camille wanted to shout back “Well you talk to him!” but she felt that would be weird. After seconds of careful deliberation, she decided to talk to him. She’ll scare him off and that’ll be the end of it. At least she tried.

_That’s the spirit! You won’t scare him and if you do, well he’s a weakling and can’t handle your woman-ness!_

‘Oh yes’, Camille thought, her woman-ness which has a permanent bitch face and personality so blunt that if you tried to cut butter with it, the butter would just slide away. Sure, that’ll knock his socks right off. Before she could abort mission and speed walk away from the table, Specimen decided to make his move and saunter his way over. Well, she couldn’t run now.

“Mind if I sit here and keep you company?” he asked. “These things can be depressing alone and misery loves company?”.

Damn it, he was even more attractive up close and had a voice liked melted chocolate to match. “Who says I’m miserable? I might be enjoying the groom’s mother’s 54th drunken rendition of ‘At Last’, she jokingly said.

Specimen laughed, “Well then allow me to join you in your merriment and get you another drink.”  
Camille paused. Ok, that laugh sounded familiar she thought. Hell, now that face was looking mighty familiar. That body, that ass…oh crap. Specimen was Chris Evans, that Marvel actor that Gwen was always moaning about. Camille felt herself deflate a smidgen. What in the fresh hell was he doing here? Why is he talking to her of all people? Doesn’t he have better things to do like…well, Camille didn’t know what actors did in their free time but it couldn’t be this.

_Camille, don’t be so self-deprecating and snobbish. He can do whatever he wants in his free time. And he wants to talk to you so give your name and smile before I come back from the afterlife and annoy you to death for being a recluse._

Steeling herself, she held out her hand, “Camille.” He smiled beatifically and gave his hand, “Chris.”

Looking back on this moment, Camille knew she could’ve handled this better but her social skills weren’t that good and she probably could’ve lead with small talk or something but she believed small talk was a waste of time and Specimen…_Chris_wasn’t that subtle with his leering at her almost impressive cleavage.

“Just so you know, I don’t hook up at weddings.”

Chris looked surprised but shockingly, not offended. He quickly recovered and in a smirking tone said, “I’m guessing you haven’t always had this rule.”

Camille smiled at that and frankly said, “It’s just so cliché, a guy looks across the crowded dance floor and sees a girl sitting alone and both of them are at this big romantic wedding and they can’t help but think ‘wow what if it works out?’. Those big romantic moments between two strangers, they’re not real.”

Chris just smiled (he smiled a lot, Camille noted) and nodded emphatically, “Exactly. Like when I saw you get that drunk cousin to the bathroom to clean the vomit out of her hair. Not gonna lie, that got me hot, I could barely control myself”.

“You should see me handle a defibrillator, you’d be utterly and completely titillated.”

“Unfortunately for you, that is not out of character for me.” Camille laughed at that nervously. Unfortunately for her, Chris noticed but thankfully moved on. “But now that I’m older I know it’s just a fantasy.”

“The Wedding Goggles Syndrome, it’s a terrible affliction”, she joked.

“Exactly. And that is why I am not flirting with you.”

Ok, Camille had to snort incredulously at that comment. He wasn’t that subtle with his intentions but in fairness, neither was she. “This isn’t your Big Move?”

“What? You think this is my Big Move? Believe me, you would know the Big Move. People ten tables away would know the Big Move.”

Alright, Camille could play this game. “That’s too bad.”, she said while groaning.

Chris nodded without saying anything and continued to stare at her. Camille was surprised, he hadn’t left yet or looked put off by her dry sense of humor and frank personality. If anything, he looked impressed. Maybe he was drunker than she thought.

But Camille couldn’t help but be pleased by his presence. Being a workaholic or as her shrink would say ‘using work to distract her from her loneliness and cope with Peter’s passing’, didn’t make her desirable as a friend or girlfriend. 90% of her conversations with others revolved around work and it was nice to jokingly chat with someone with no expectations. She didn’t want it to end. But Camille knew herself to be a pragmatic person, this wasn’t gonna work. Her and Chris would flirt for the night and then never see each other again. He would go off and do actor things while she went back to her work as a medic. They would just be blips in each other’s radars, miniscule smudges.

But that would mean Camille could say whatever she wanted without worrying about keeping up appearances. She could be as straightforward and dry as could be and it wouldn’t matter because they would never see each other again. Besides, Chris was smiling and laughing at everything she said. She could definitely keep that up. He had a nice smile.

“Well since, as you previously stated, ‘misery loves company’, why don’t we just hang out for the rest of the night?”

His eyes brightened at that, “Interested.”

“And to preface this, we are not sleeping together tonight.”

“Less interested.”, he said but much to Camille’s surprise, his smile didn’t diminish and he didn’t attempt to angle the conversation to a goodbye.

“So the thing that shatters the illusion is the next day. Right? So let’s cut that part out. I’m here; you’re here. This is a big romantic wedding. Why don’t we just dance and talk and drink and never see other again after tonight?”

Ok, maybe Camille was being presumptuous about him wanting to know her past this night but what the hell? If he didn’t like it he could leave, she had implied that much.

Chris hadn’t said much during her tirade, but he hadn’t lost the interest in his eyes. They were pretty eyes.  
“Wow…ok I’m in. But I found a flaw in your plan.”

“And what is that, pray tell?”

“You do know who I am right? And I swear, I am not saying that because I’m arrogant. It just since Captain America it seems everyone knows who I am, even if they have been living under a rock.”

“I do know who you are.”

“And you don’t care?”, he asked suspiciously.

That was a convoluted question. Did Camille care? Yes, but not in the ‘omg it’s Chris Evans I’m gonna be a total spaz about it and ask for an autograph and a picture and tell all my friends’ way. It was more in the ‘I know he likes his privacy and I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable hanging out with a girl he doesn’t want a friendship with and the paparazzi blows it out of proportion and embarrasses him’ way.

Camille gave him the short answer, “No, I don’t care. As long as you don’t care that I don’t care.”

Chris looked utterly floored by the answer. And, if possible, he looked even more interested in Camille. ‘That can’t be right’, Camille thought.

After a minute, Chris recovered and said “Ok…back to the flaw in your plan. You know my last name but I don’t know yours. I’d like to be on equal ground with you even though I’m suspecting you are way out of my league.”

Wow, even after I told him we were not gonna hook up, he was laying the charm on thick. Camille…out of his league…fucking hilarious. Seriously.

“Ok I see the merits in your observation. We should be on equal ground Chris Evans. I am Camille Straka-Reyes.”

“Oh well if we are going to be giving middle names. I am Christopher Robert Evans.”

Camille had to good-heartedly snicker at his misunderstanding, “No, my last name is hyphenated: Straka-Reyes. My mother refused to take my father’s name when they got married, the hyphen was the compromise.”

Chris belly-laughed at that. He had a contagious laugh, Camille thought. She couldn’t help but join in.

After they both recovered, Chris said “I see you inherited your mother’s gumption.”

“I don't know if she would be happy or insulted by the comment Christopher.”

They spent the next minute in silence. Just looking at each other. Camille couldn’t help but admire how attractive he was and how laughable how out-of-reach he was. Camille mentally shook herself, there was no need to get maudlin.

_Have some fun._

Yeah, she was gonna have some fun. She was due for some. Right? Besides, wherever Peter was, it would make him happy that she wasn’t alone tonight.

“Ok, we are now on equal ground Mr. Evans. Let me see the Big Moves you so helpfully aforementioned.”

Chris slowly smirked.


	2. The Wedding Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting to know each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Big Moves start, Camille scares Chris a little, and card games are played.
> 
> Kudos, positive feedback, subscriptions, bookmarking etc. are much appreciated. I will answer every one of your comments and questions. I think it's rude if I don't and I wanna talk to you guys.

Following his smirk, Chris said “Firstly, in order to properly show off my Big Moves, I need supplies. If you are so inclined.” Chris ran to the open bar, grabbed a full champagne bottle and 2 champagne glasses with one hand and gripped Camille’s hand with the other. As they sped walked away, Camille dug her heels in and mischievously thought of another idea. 

“Wait, wait, wait…I’m gonna help the other single ladies in this joint and steal the bouquet.” 

“Oh you’re so smart but you need a diversion”, he said stealing a fork off the table and lightly tapped it against one of the champagne glasses and yelled, “Kiss!”. And sure enough, like sheep following a shepherd, the guests started chanting and Camille seized the extremely ostentatious bouquet (seriously did people know how expensive these were?) and went to the closest exit with Chris following right behind her. 

As they walked through the hallways, Chris kept giggling like a schoolgirl while Camille kept shushing him. “Honestly, Chris how in the hell do you pull off pranks if you keep giving yourself away with your not-at-all obvious snickering.” 

“Hey hey! You are no better. Everybody knows you can’t run from a crime scene, you gotta saunter calmly through the chaos.” While he was talking—casually and without warning, Chris grabbed Camille’s hand. 

Trying not to flinch too hard at his unexpected action, Camille answered defensively, “I wasn’t running! I was speed walking besides you’re louder than I am.” 

They walked in comfortable silence for a minute and started looking for a quiet place to drink the stolen champagne when Chris pulled her to the stairs. 

Looking on suspiciously, Camille said “I already said I’m not going to make out with you, a stairwell and close quarters aren’t gonna change that.” 

“Oh just you wait, maybe I’ll change your mind on that ridiculous rule you have. Remember I’m gonna show off my Big Moves,” Chris smiled. “But that’s not where I’m taking you.” 

As they made their way up to the roof, Camille had to smile. It had been a while since someone had held her hand without it being a comforting gesture for something sad (Peter’s funeral came to mind). Unfortunately, Camille couldn’t help but compare the two men. Chris’s hands were larger and rougher and seemed to engulf her entire hand while Peter’s had been her size and much smoother. It shouldn’t have mattered but she couldn’t help but notice the difference. 

_Don’t feel guilty. Humans need physical contact and as much as you would’ve liked to have been a cactus in another life, you need it too._

Before Camille could feel too guilty, Chris started talking, “You know, no matter how many places I go to for work. The Boston skyline still takes my breath away.” 

The skyline looked the same as it always had. But, Chris had a point, a city like this had a beauty that was unmatched in some respects in comparison to other views like Italy or Costa Rica. It was homey. 

“I have to admit: it is beautiful but you can’t see the stars.” 

“Did your hometown have a better skyline than this one? One where you could see the stars?” Chris asked. 

“How did you know I wasn’t from here?” Camille already knew the answer but she liked hearing him talk. 

“Sweetheart, you have absolutely no Boston accent. It isn’t that hard to deduce,” he teased. 

Camille shook her head and smiled, “Okay, you got me. I moved here after med school and the Academy”. 

Chris whipped his head around and quickly asked, “You’re a doctor? And the Academy? As in the FBI Training Academy?” 

“Yes to all of your questions.” Camille internally deflated. Most men (and sometimes women) did not like it when she mentioned her employment. Her presence, calculating eyes, and wild curly hair already gave off the aura of ‘Grade A Bitch’ and mentioning her accomplishments didn’t help. 

But she wasn’t going to lie. She worked hard to get where she was in life, she refused to make herself smaller to make others feel better. It was pointless and pathetic.

Camille looked back at Chris’s face and expected to see intimidation or condescension but instead found…amazement. Absolute, unadulterated amazement. 

“Ok now you gotta tell me about your life because you might be the coolest girl I’ve ever met. Anndd that made me sound boorish and provincial. I’m so sorry.” Chris immediately brought his head down and nervously tucked his hands into his trousers. 

Camille heard the Windows shut down sound in her head. She could not compute his sheepishness. Chris should never look like that: small and insecure. 

“Don’t apologize. You don’t sound boorish or provincial. It’s just…I thought you would be intimidated or annoyed.” 

Almost instantaneously, Chris ardently stated, “If people are annoyed by what you’ve accomplished, then you need some new people.” 

Camille gave him a small smile. “Yes, I’ve always believed that.” 

Chris slowly relaxed and popped open the champagne. As he poured liberal amounts into each glass, he asked “So tell me about your life.” 

Camille loudly exhaled and took a glass, “Ok…well um my hometown is North Carolina but my mom and dad were from Slovakia and the Philippines, respectively. I went to East Carolina University for undergrad and attended Boston University’s School of Medicine. I was approached by the FBI my final year and was recruited. Went to Georgia for training and they put me in the Boston field office and the rest is…history I guess.” 

Damn it, Camille thought. ‘I sound like a fucking med school applicant’. She’d rather not relive that Hell again. 

Chris looked intensely into her eyes and was quiet for a solid minute. Camille started to nervously bounce her leg as he continued to stare silently. 

Slowly smiling, Chris started, “…Ok. First, how in the world did a Slovakian and a Filipino meet in America and fall in love? Second, you were approached by the FBI and recruited straight out of medical school? And third, what the fuck do you do for a living?” 

“As most immigrants do, they moved to America for a better life. They met at a bar, they liked each other, they got married, had two kids.” Despite their ancestries, Camille had to admit their meeting was downright American™. “And as far is how they fell in love, I don’t really wanna know the answer to that. I can still be scarred by my parent’s love life at this age.” Camille finished dryly. 

Chris belly-laughed at that and Camille felt herself relax. If she was still able to make him laugh, then she was doing ok. 

_He does laugh a lot, doesn’t he? You should laugh more._

“As far as my employment goes…yeah, the school knew I was interested in forensics and working with the FBI, one of my professors had a contact with the Boston field office and recommended me. My day job is three-fourths training new recruits in Operational Medicine and one-fourth dealing with biological samples taken from various crime scenes.” 

Chris put down his flute and emphatically started gesturing. “So what I’m hearing is a) you are way out of my fucking league and b) you are the best of the best.” 

Camille didn’t know what to say that so instead she drank her champagne until there was nothing left. 

‘What the fuck was she supposed to say to that? Toot her own horn and say, ‘absolutely I am the best of the best and I am out of your league stop talking to me you peasant.’’ 

Camille decided to be honest: “I don’t know how to answer that.”

Chris just speechlessly stared and looked like he was about to tuck tail and run as far as his long legs could take him. 

Fuck her loneliness, but Camille didn’t want him to run, she was enjoying his company. Maybe she should have lied and said she was an accountant or something. 

_Yeah maybe you should’ve said ‘hey I am the smartest human being on the planet’ on the second date or something. Maybe even the eleventh._

‘Shut up Peter.’ 

To salvage the fractured pieces of the conversation, Camille decided to bring it away from herself. This is why she hated talking about herself. She was too much every time and all she did was scare people. 

(Truth be told, she probably should not have been as socially awkward as the quiet kid joining the cool kids for lunch for the first time but whatever.) 

“Hey you wanna play slapjack?” Camille asked distractedly and pulled the deck of cards out of her purse. 

Chris was shaken out of his mini existential crisis and looked at her inquisitively, “You brought cards to a wedding?” 

“Well yeah…it keeps the kids from screaming during the vows and gives me a chance to try and beat Simon at counting cards.” 

Chris expression changed to incredulity and…fondness. Yeah, that can’t be right. “You know you’re a little strange.”

“Not just a little Christopher. Sorry to disappoint. So…wanna play?”

Chris started to relax (thank Faraday) and accepted the cards. Playing slapjack seemed to calm both of them down. Chris started to laugh more and Camille began to smile more easily. They brought the conversation to space (Planet Nine’s pseudo-existence) and politics (the U.S withdrawal from the Paris agreement) and dogs (Chris absolutely melted when he heard she volunteered at a shelter). 

Conversation became…easy. Both of them were passionate about…well, fucking everything and seemed to goad each other on until they were both out of breath. 

Chris sometimes slapped in slapjack too hard and sometimes Camille went off on tangents completely unrelated to what they were talking about but it worked. Seamlessly. That seemed dangerous for some reason but Camille couldn’t bring herself to worry about it just yet. 

Chris seemed to forget about being extra charming and his Big Moves and started being himself. Camille found herself enjoying him even more. 

After teaching Chris the card game Bezique and losing to him (twice). Camille decided to call it. This was as good as it was gonna get. She had fun and if her instincts were right, Chris had fun too. 

“You ready to head down?”, Camille asked trying not to sound to disappointed.

“Honestly?” Chris started packing up the cards, albeit very slowly. “Not really. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met. And I’ve met a lot of people.”

Camille jokingly replied, “You called me strange not a couple of conversations ago Christopher. You don’t get to save face now.” 

“I apologized for that and you are a fucking knock-out, you can’t blame me for getting a little dazed and dumbstruck.” 

Camille rolled her eyes at that. But she couldn’t help but internally preen at that compliment. Sue her, it had been a while since a man complimented her outside her breasts. She was gonna hold onto his attention and praise until the end of time.

As they headed back down, Chris took her hand again and seemed to grip it tighter. Camille must have imagined that. 

As they entered the ballroom, they found no guests just streamers on the ground and chairs askew. 

“Whoa. Guess we were gone a while. I feel kinda bad I didn’t thank Frank for inviting me.” 

“And I feel kinda bad I didn’t tell Scott where I went.” 

Camille and Chris smiled at each other softly. It seemed they both were trying to delay goodbyes. 

“You know there is one thing we haven’t done that I really wanted to do,” said Chris.

“What’s that?” Camille asked.

Chris turned to the abandoned boom box near the DJ table and turned it on. It was playing some slow song, it didn’t matter anyway. 

He tugged Camille to him and began to sway. He put one hand on her waist and the other hand in hers. Camille wrapped one hand on his shoulder and the other in his hand. Chris still stared at Camille like she was the most peculiar creature in existence but fondly just like…

‘No. Chris is not him.’ 

“I never got to tell you how amazing you look. Your dress is as strange as you.”

Camille snorted unattractively, “Again, calling a girl strange won’t get you anywhere in life. It might get you a smack on the nose one day.” 

“I’m beginning to think you like it when I call you strange.” Chris softly replied. 

They continued to sway for another minute in each other’s arms. Camille felt calm. A dangerous feeling. She wasn’t supposed to feel this. She was just supposed to have fun. 

To cut through the tension, Camille quickly said, “You know I don’t always look like this. On a real weekend, the real Camille wears a pair of shorts, Converse, dog-slobber covered sweaters with holes in them and no makeup.”

Without hesitation, Chris just smiled and replied, “The real Camille sounds really sexy.” Camille sucked in a breath and inappropriately thought ‘Danger Will Robinson’. “It’s too bad I’ll never get to see it.”

Once again, Camille had nothing to say, so she stayed silent and tucked her head into his chest. She had forgotten what it was like to be held by somebody. How comforting and warm it was to hear someone else's heartbeat. 

Chris held her tighter and whispered, so softly that she almost didn’t hear him, “Please give me your number.”

Camille, who was too tired and too vulnerable to look him in the eye, just shook her head softly into his chest. 

Chris sighed dejectedly and put his chin on her head, “You know, I found another flaw in your plan.” 

“And what’s that?” 

“The wedding is over. The Big Romantic moment is no more and I still want to see you tomorrow.” Camille just sighed and said nothing. Her silence didn’t deter him, “I know its cliché but I still wanna try.”

Camille wanted to say yes. More than anything. 

But it wasn’t going to work. 

She knew it as sure as she knew the human heart could continue beating even when it was disconnected from the body. She knew it as sure as she knew brain function decreased after 6 minutes without oxygen. Their lives were not meant to cross, they were parallel lines. Something just went wrong for a couple of hours. 

And even if they did try, Chris would probably get too frustrated with her workaholic tendencies or get bored of her entirely and call it quits. Or their schedules would tear them apart faster than their frustrations. Either one would hurt like a bitch but she could survive it. It doesn’t mean she wanted to feel it. 

Camille still hadn’t said anything to his declaration. Chris shook her softly, “Camille. Do you want to try?”

She sighed softly, “…yes.” She didn’t have the strength to expand on her answer.

Chris seemed to know that and just held her tighter. “Even if it doesn’t work out, I still want you in my life. You are unlike anyone I have ever met. Even if we were just friends, I could live with that.” 

Maybe he could live with that. But Camille knew he wouldn’t be happy. He had been waiting for someone to spend his life with for a very long time, he shouldn’t have to wait any longer. And Camille was not ready. 

He deserved someone who was. 

So, with a heavy heart, Camille pulled away and looked at him regretfully. Chris responded by putting his forehead against hers. 

They both just closed their eyes and soaked up each other’s warmth and presence. Chris seemed like he could stay there forever. Camille wasn’t opposed to that idea. But the moment was done. 

“Hey Chris.”

“Yeah?”

“Close your eyes, and count to five.” 

Chris intensely looked into her eyes, like he wanted to memorize every imperfection, every beauty mark. But, sure enough he closed his eyes and let go on her waist and started to count. 

“1…2…3…4…5”

After he finished counting, Chris kept his eyes closed for a little while longer. He didn’t want to see her gone. But the moment was done. He opened his eyes and found himself alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys still here? This will end happy don't worry, it'll just take a bit to get there. My friend was a very pragmatic, cautious person and she was amazing, ambitious, and bad-ass just like Camille. She was passionate, compassionate, and one of the strangest people I had ever met. But best people are always the strangest in my experience. 
> 
> Do you guys want Chris's POV in future chapters? I put a little bit of him at the verrryyyy end but I wanted you guys to get to know Camille's headspace before I considered writing my take on Chris's.
> 
> Kudos, positive feedback, subscriptions, bookmarking etc. are much appreciated. I will answer every one of your comments and questions. I think it's rude if I don't and I wanna talk to you guys.


	3. Dodger Evans Plays Matchmaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camille gets annoyed at work, Dodger runs towards a ball, Chris gets nervous, and both are ridiculous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote this chapter 3 days ago and the more I read it, the more I didn't like it so I re wrote it. Thank you for the comments and kudos they give my life :)
> 
> Let me know in the comments your favorite line or piece of dialogue, I'm curious

If Camille had to hear one more incompetent, arrogant, misogynist trainee tell her how to do her job one more fucking time, she was gonna break both of his wrists and maybe his nose. Unfortunately, Murph said she couldn’t do that anymore. There’s a new form circulating its way through the office, she was 90% sure Murph had written it. 

Rubbing her eyes and finishing her 5th cup of coffee, Camille went to go bug Simon. If she was in hell, then she was gonna drag him down with her. Besides, the kid needed to join her on ‘agent injured during a tact operation’ simulation. 

Not even bothering to knock, Camille stormed in, “You know, you really should answer the phone when I text you.”

“You know, you really should knock first”, Simon said pushing past her to get to his desktop. 

Camille’s patience was negative at this point in the day so ignoring his snark, she continued on, “Are you coming or not?” 

“What is with you lately? You’ve been more irritating that usual.” 

Simon ‘Resident Runt’ Reeves had grown on her ever since he joined the Bureau a year ago. Poor thing had failed all of his physical training but his 183 IQ and photographic memory was not available anywhere else in the world. Besides, the FBI wanted to snatch him up before CIA did. He was so impressive that Murph actually petitioned the director to let him into the program. He still wasn’t allowed to carry a gun but Camille had been boning him up before his qualification test. 

(However, he had failed 3 times already. She wasn’t that optimistic.) 

“You were supposed be in the car with me and the trainees to go to Atlantic Avenue 5 minutes ago”, she said completely ignoring him. 

“Cam, I say this with the utmost respect and love. But don’t you have anyone else to torment? And do I really have to go? I’ve been on every simulation exercise this year. If someone gets shot in front of me, I know how to keep them alive long enough for you to get there.” 

“What if I’m not there?”

“Then I’ll cry.”

“Very practical. Let’s go! If you don’t get your ass out of that seat right now, I’m siccing Maddox on you and he is a lot less dainty and lady-like than I am”, she said as she dragged Simon by his shirt sleeve. 

“We both know that’s not true”, Simon muttered under his breath. Camille pretended not to hear him. He wasn’t exactly wrong. On occasion, Maddox had run or hidden from Camille when she was on the warpath. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”, Simon asked meekly. 

“Reeves, we are already out of the elevator and walking to the car. What do you think?” 

“Fucking took you long enough. The shinies are getting antsy.” Davian shouted impatiently from the passenger seat. 

“What are you doing here? You don’t need come with us. I’m only torturing 5 people today, Satan doesn’t want 6. Get out of the car.” 

Davian Maddox just smirked annoyingly, fiddling with his tennis ball and replied, “I finished up my reports and I thought what better way to celebrate than to hang out with my favorite medic and our Resident Runt?” 

Davian was the textbook muscle of the unit--all brawn and absolutely no brains. At least that’s what he wanted people to think. Most people didn’t know that Davian was valedictorian and the crowning jewel of the Chicago bomb squad before he decided to ‘take it easy’ at Operational Medicine. When Camille asked about why he acted stupider than he actually was, he had replied “All they see is brainless muscle: the longer they underestimate me, the faster I can get my job done. Also the look on their faces gives me happiness.” They had been friends ever since. 

Knowing a losing battle when she saw one, Camille dryly countered, “Fine, but you’re carrying all the supplies to and from the avenue.” 

As Camille drove through the streets of Boston, she couldn’t help but think of Chris. It was pathetic but it had been an unforgettable night. She had laughed, he had listened, she had joked, he had blushed (she still couldn’t look at her deck of cards). He said he wanted to try, he said he wanted to see her again and she had said no. 

Camille refused to be regretful. What’s done is done. Besides, he’s probably moved on and forgotten all about her, it had been a month. 

“Maddox, sanction off Essex St. and try to convince civilians that they do not have to take out their phones and film the trainees attempts to save a life on Snapchat. Reeves, get the trainees to the sidewalk running along the Harbor and if they give you a hard time, push them into the water. ” 

Maddox had noticed her crankiness the past few weeks but thankfully, he hadn’t said anything. But he was all about ‘Talking about Feelings’ so she was expecting an ambush from him at the end of the day. 

Both muttered their assent and hopped to it. Camille grabbed the dummy agent with a chest wound out of the trunk and placed it onto the ground, right in the middle of the street. Atlantic Avenue was busy but that was exactly what she had wanted. The trainees (and Simon) had to get comfortable with civilians in their line of sight. They had to be able to process them and deal with the patient without getting distracted and causing more panic. 

“Ok trainees! Let’s get this over with.” The simulation was pretty simple. Agent Dummy was a first responder who got shot in the chest between the third and fourth intercostal space at 15:32. The shooter had been contained by SWAT at 15:48 but the zone was considered hot, so everyone had to wear Kevlar vests and helmets along with their 10 pound bag of medical supplies. The goal was to stop the bleeding and keep Agent Dummy alive long enough to get to an ambulance and call for backup. 

It sounded easy, but wearing full gear, worrying about your own safety in an active shooting scene, and adrenaline caused trainees make stupid mistakes. They had to be able to deal with the stress. 

Unfortunately, Camille was not an easy person. Every time one of the trainees missed a part of the simulation—no matter how small, she made them start all over again. She was a hard-ass but if it was real, people’s lives would be at stake. They couldn’t afford to have any mistakes. And most importantly, none of the trainees needed to have a dead agent on their hands because they forgot to check for vital signs before moving them. 

Maddox wasn’t any better with his "constructive" criticism. Trainee Misogynist looked like he was about to wet his pants. In contrast, Maddox coddled Reeves and gave him helpful pointers. He was always a softie for that kid. 

Two hours later, all 4 of the trainees (and Simon) had adequately finished the simulation and as a reward, she was gonna let them go home early…right after she made them clean up the supplies and made Maddox carry all of it. 

(They had to know their med kits forwards and backwards before she even considered clearing them for active duty, sue her.) 

As she waited for the trainees to load into the truck, Camille looked out into the harbor. The sun was setting and downy pink clouds were kissing the tops of the buildings across the harbor. It was beautiful, Chris probably would have said something poetic and moving about it. 

_Wow you really are pathetic. Why didn’t you give him your number again?_

Actively ignoring Peter allowed her to take in her surroundings (Murph would be so proud). Yellow lights emanated from the Boston Harbor hotel, the busking homeless man was drawing a reasonable crowd and plentiful tips, and…a dog was running straight towards the tennis ball Maddox was playing with and into oncoming traffic. 

Thinking quickly, Camille shouted, “Davian! Ball!”. Without hesitation, Maddox threw the ball and went into the street to stop the cars. With the ball in hand, Camille got on her knees and started patting her legs to coax the dog to run into her arms. 

Come here puppy! You’re so handsome. Come here!”

Said puppy rushed into her arms with the speed of a furry missile and made her grunt unattractively when he toppled her to the ground. 

‘Jeez you’re strong for a cutie pie. That actually hurt a little.’ 

As Camille started playing tug of war with the puppy, a man with a NASA baseball hat came running over. 

“I am so fucking sorry. I was talking to someone and not holding him as tight as I should’ve and he just ran. I am so sorry.” 

Oh…crap. She recognized that voice, those eyes, that hair…oh shit. Chris looked good, if not better than he did at the wedding with his tight-fitting jeans and dark blue cable-knit sweater. Well, that just wasn’t fair. 

As Chris stuttered through his frantic apologies, he turned to look at his dog’s savior. Oh fuck…she looked perfect, if not more perfect than she did at the wedding with her black skin-tight leggings, black work boots, and a light brown leather jacket. Well, that just wasn’t fair. 

It seemed neither of them had anything to say to each other. Luckily (or unluckily), Simon ran over and started going over statistics of dogs running away from their owners. Camille quickly shushed him with a look and gestured him to go back and help Maddox. 

Puppy was still bouncing and prancing like it was the best day ever and Camille was thinking what were the odds of this happening (again) and what part of the universe had it out for her. 

Camille decided to break their Staredown Pt. 2 and greeted him softly, “Hey Christopher.”

Stumbling, Chris breathlessly replied, “Hey.”

Annnd that was the end of their conversation. From what Camille had heard, Chris was always bouncing and laughing and gesturing in interviews. He was the human equivalent of a puppy. What had gotten so inarticulate now? 

After it was clear Chris wasn’t going to say anything more, Camille decided to take charge and guide them both out of the street. Puppy allowed her to take hole of his leash and decided to reward her with sloppy kisses. Another great thing about dogs, they were the perfect icebreakers. 

“Your dog is handsome, what’s his name?”

Chris shook his head to wake himself out of his gobsmacked expression, “Dodger.”

“Charles Dickens or Oliver & Company?”

Nervously laughing, Chris answered “Oliver & Company…wait, you know Oliver Twist?”

“I would’ve thought Oliver Twist, honestly. Jack Dawkins was a slippery fellow.”

Camille couldn’t help but notice the obvious shock in his face, he looked at her just like he did at the wedding—pure, unadulterated amazement. 

(Wow, she really had to tune down the coffee intake if she was hallucinating this late in the day.)

Getting his crap together, Chris said, “Listen, I’m not saying this is fate but what are the odds?”

Deflecting like the full fledged adult she was, she replied, “I don’t know the exact odds, you’d have to ask Reeves. But yeah, I get what you’re trying to say.” Camille snuck a glance back at Simon and Davian. Simon looked confused (like usual when he witnessed human interaction) and Davian radiated smugness (like usual). Without warning, Davian grabbed Simon and dragged him to the car. He fucking won’t.

He fucking did. Davian started the car and sped off laughing in the other direction. She was gonna kill him. 

And Chris started laughing. She was gonna kill him too. After noticing her unimpressed expression, he coughed to cover his laughing. 

“Were those guys your ride?”

“You mean the traitorous morons whose office furniture will be moved 6 inches to the left by the end of the week, yes.”

Chris laughed again. He still had a nice laugh. Fuck.

As much as Chris tried to look remorseful that she had been left behind like a sack of flour, he couldn’t help but internally dance when he realized that she couldn’t run from him this time. “So uh…what are you doing here? Not here in Boston, I mean…you live here, but here in the middle of the road with a tennis ball and…yeah.”

Chris sounded nervous. What did he have to be nervous about? She wasn’t going to flip out, what was he? 

“I’m running a simulation with the trainees, I’m in the middle of the road because the kids have to learn how to deal with distracting stimuli. And this isn’t my tennis ball, it’s Davian’s.” It’s a nice tennis ball, Camille noted as she fiddled with it nervously. 

Still looking stunned and incredibly nervous, Chris asked, “Listen, I know this is a long shot but do you want to get coffee somewhere and talk? Just talk, I swear. And I’ll walk you home or get you a taxi or call those guys and chew them out for leaving you.”

Did she want to get coffee with him? Yes, but what the fuck was she supposed to say? She had used all her social energy to keep him interested at the wedding. 

(Ok fine. She was devastatingly sarcastic and bookish but, in fairness, that wasn’t supposed to keep him interested. She was just being herself.)

_I say this with all the love in the world: GET COFFEE WITH HIM YOU EMOTIONALLY STUNTED CACTUS!_

That was rude. She wasn’t emotionally stunted, she just had trouble determining what people wanted. Wants were hard to understand, needs were not. If she sees someone can’t breathe, she knows that they need an airway. If there is an unknown solution in the lab, she knows that she needs to put on protective gear and dispose of it. Camille knew that people were made of elements and chemical reactions. Atoms and molecules make cells, which make tissue, which make organs and organ systems. Camille understood that.

But the social structure of humans was cemented by wants and desires therefore, people were hard. People talk to each other and they never say what they mean. They say something else, and you’re expected to know what they want. Camille had never been good at that.

But she had to answer him. She had enough social prowess to know that not answering him or walking away would offend him. She might as well figure out what he needed from her. 

Camille gave him a small smile and nodded. Chris sighed a breath of relief and looked positively ecstatic at her answer. 

(Weird.) 

He held out his arm like a gentleman caller and wordlessly asked if she would join him. She took his arm and started walking with Dodger trotting happily beside her. They walked to the nearest Starbucks and sat down on the uncomfortable chairs. Dodger rested his head on Camille’s leg and waited patiently for pets. They hadn’t said anything to each other since they decided to get coffee but the silence wasn’t horrible. It felt like coming home. 

(Weird.) 

Taking the reins, Chris confidently spoke, “Alright if I was younger, I would say something charming and fool around but I think I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t appreciate that and I don’t want to fool around anymore. I’m too old for that. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the wedding and I have been kicking myself for a month for letting you walk out that door. I meant what I said. You are unlike anyone I have ever met. Even if we are just friends, I can live with that.” 

Camille had to stop him there, “You could live with it but you wouldn’t be happy. You’ve been waiting for someone for so long, you shouldn’t have to wait any longer. And we barely know each other. We are so out of each other’s orbits that it would be hilarious if it wasn’t so disappointing.” She hadn’t meant to say the last part but it was too late to take it back now.

Chris sighed and looked down at the table and started petting Dodger to ground himself, “You’re right. I won’t be completely happy. And I don’t want to wait any longer.” Chris looked up. He still had pretty eyes. Camille bet that every part of him was pretty. “But I don’t care.”

Camille sucked in a breath. 

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe this is a passing infatuation and it’ll burn out and we’ll both be disappointed. If it happens, it happens. But I want to be a part of each other’s lives. I want to get to know you, I want to talk to you, I want to spend time with you.”

Camille started petting Dodger to control her shaking hands. 

“I may act like I’m 5 years old with the emotional depth of a kiddy pool but I’m not. Not about this. Whatever way you’ll have me, I’ll accept. But if you don’t want to know me at all or forget this ever happened, all you have to do is say so. Say so and I’ll walk away right now.”

“You’ll be disappointed” Camille answered sadly. 

Without hesitation, “So what? Everyone gets disappointed, I’m a big boy I can handle it.”

Exhaling shakily, Camille couldn’t help but gape like a fish. How in the fuck was he so sure of himself and his decisions? So certain of what he wanted. So confident. It made her want to try and believe he meant what he was saying. 

He patiently waited for her response, his expression infuriatingly unreadable. 

Swallowing loudly, Camille softly answered, “It’s not that I don’t want to be in each other’s lives. It’s just…I don’t…damn it.” She frustratingly ran her fingers through her dark hair. She’s never been good at words. 

“It’s just…life doesn’t always work out. You can’t expect this to just magically work. You say you want to be in each other’s lives. Ok. But you have an everchanging schedule, I am a workaholic. And I’m not as interesting as I portrayed myself to be at the wedding.”

“For the contrary, you’re more interesting now than you were at the wedding.” 

Camille gave him a dry look. “I thought you said you wouldn’t say something charming and fool around.”

“I’m not fooling around and that was not charming. If anything, it was a borderline insult. You obviously have not been flirted with enough to recognize charm.”

“So you admit you were flirting with me just now.”

Chris looked at her incredulously. Their conversation at the wedding was like this too. Constantly goading each other on, borderline annoying each other. It was familiar…and fun. 

Chris was (poorly) holding back a grin. “Nothing gets past you does it?”

“You’re not that subtle.”

“I think you like that about me.” 

It was Camille’s turn to hold back a grin (and surprisingly, a blush). 

“Camille, it’s a simple question. Do you want to be friends? Or boyfriend and girlfriend? Or strangers?”

Oh fudge him, it was not a simple question. It was…hard. 

_It’s not a hard question. Go with your gut. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to do that._

Her gut was saying ‘don’t you dare let him go even if they were to remain friends and nothing more, deal with the consequences later’, her brain was saying ‘logically and based on precedent, this wasn’t going to end well’. But Chris didn’t say it was gonna work out either. He said it might peter out and it would be disappointing, for him and her. 

As she remained lost in her thoughts, Chris gently grabbed one of her hands and held it in both of his. She forgot how warm he was. 

“There’s no wrong answer.” She rolled her eyes at that, of course there wasn’t a wrong answer. “What are you so scared of?”

Camille whipped her head around. She wasn’t scared. She was…cautious.

No you’re definitely scared.

Despite what Maddox (and Peter) said, she was socially (barely) competent adult. She was getting too old to fool around and say vague things about her feelings. She left that shit in high school. Chris had told her the truth, it was her turn. 

“I’ll annoy you. I’m too much in a lot of ways and too little in others. I’ve never been in the middle. I feel I won’t fit in with you, whether it be friend or girlfriend.”

“And you don’t think I feel the same way?”

Camille stopped breathing for a second. That didn’t make any sense. 

“You think I don’t feel so out of my depth with you that I feel like I’m gonna drown? For gods sake Camille, you’re a doctor, a fucking hero and I am a schmuck who never went to college who pretends for a living.” 

Camille couldn’t help but get angry at that comment. So what if he didn’t go to college? His job was making people happy and in turn, that made him happy. He wasn’t a schmuck and he certainly wasn’t lacking in any aspect of who he was. 

Chris seemed to notice her prickliness at his self-deprecating comment and smiled “See it’s not so great hearing someone else put themselves down now, is it?” 

Camille didn’t say anything to that.

“The difference between you and me is I’m willing to try and be scared together. Are you?” Chris smirked.  
Camille looked at him with her calculating brown eyes. She knew a challenge when she saw one. She knew he was baiting her to answer. But this wasn’t a game or a challenge. She refused to approach it like one. And yet…

_Go with your gut. Do it quickly, just like ripping off the band-aid._

With no anesthesia, Camille finished.

The last time she went with her gut when it came to Feelings was…well, she couldn’t remember. Odds were it wasn’t gonna work out. But Camille refused to be scared, she couldn’t afford to be in her job and she didn’t want to be one outside of it. She was an adult and her gut told her she wanted to be in Chris’ life, whatever way he’ll take her. 

Feeling exhausted but sure of herself, Camille answered, “Ok. Friends.” 

Chris breathed a sigh of relief (albeit with a touch of sadness). “See, was that so hard?” he said slightly jokingly. 

Unimpressed with his snark, Camille rolled her eyes, “You’re an ass.”

“You like my ass.”

Ok fine, it was a nice ass. Happy that the difficult talk was done, Camille asked, “Do you actually want coffee?”

“It is 8PM so it’s probably best we don’t. We are fully functioning adults who have to get up early.”

“Sissy.”

Chris snorted and pinched her hand in retaliation. She hadn’t realized they were still holding hands. 

“I’ll get you a cab home” said Chris. Dodger jumped up happily at the mention of ‘home’. As they stood up to leave, Chris took her hand again. 

“Friends don’t hold hands Christopher.” 

“Well, these pair of friends do.”  
Camille laughed at his silliness. He seemed to enjoy her laugh as much as she enjoyed his. 

As they made their way to the street, Chris started, “So what do you think of Charles Dickens? Because personally I think…”

Camille let his words wash over her comfortingly. His voice was still warm and his hands were toasty. She definitely made the right decision. She put her head on his shoulder (well his arm, she was too short to reach his shoulder) and listened to his opinions on Charles Dickens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have a Tumblr: marvelshtrash (I don't know how to put it in a link). Its mostly multi shipping trash and crying over Tony Stark sorry 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think of this chapter I love comments. 
> 
> Kudos, comments/questions, positive feedback etc. are always appreciated. 
> 
> Love you guys!


	4. Pizza and Paparazzi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camille makes fun of Chris, Camille's mind needs to chill, Chris gets scared and both end up running out Leone's and having a moment in the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter took longer than I would've liked. I just couldn't find the right tone for it. But, I finally got something I'm semi-ok with, please be nice to me in the comments, I'm fragile. 
> 
> To preface, I WILL NOT abandon this story. However, updates will be sporadic because senior year of college is starting and I don't know how much time I will have during the school year. I will do my best to finish this before 2019 ends but no promises. I WILL NOT leave this story unfinished, more for my pride than anything. 
> 
> As a reminder, Peter is the italic sentences. I got some confusion for that. 
> 
> Kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, and especially comments are always appreciated. It keeps me going. Love you guys and enjoy!

Camille could not stop fucking laughing. “What on Earth possessed you to answer that?” 

“I don’t know okay Anna asked”, Chris sheepishly answered. 

Camille just kept cackling, ignoring him completely. Dodger started barking as if he was laughing alongside her. 

“Are you gonna stop laughing anytime soon? You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack.” 

Finally, after getting ahold of herself 10 minutes later, Camille asked the most important question of the day, possibly the whole day, possibly the month. “So when Anna Faris asks you on her podcast if you are an ass man or a tit man? You actually answer?”

Camille started laughing again. She couldn’t help it, of course this man had gotten himself into this mess. After knowing him for 2 months, she had gotten used to Chris’ reckless and sometimes thoughtless answers. He just got so excited and forgot the camera was there. It was adorable because his answers always included cursing and/or sexual jokes. But this one took the cake. 

After wiping away her tears and taking a glance at Chris’ deadpan face, she shouted “You do realize that all the news affiliates will be printing ACTOR CHRIS EVANS LOVES ASSES SEND YOUR NUDES HIS WAY!!!” 

Chris looked thoroughly unimpressed at her joke. Camille thought it was a good joke, he just had no taste. “You know I was hoping for some support instead of heckling from Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb,” Chris replied turning to Dodger who was still unhelpfully barking at his pain. 

“Oh relax you big baby. It’s not that bad and I’m sure you’ve said worse things on camera than your sexual/aesthetic preferences. Besides, I doubt the ladies—and some men will mind. Factoid alert, Samuel L. Jackson said he liked hentai in one of his interviews,” winked Camille while Chris shuddered. 

She got up from the couch to fill up her water bottle. Whenever they didn’t want to be in public (which was most of the time), they went to Chris’ house. It was bigger and spacious and secluded while Camille’s apartment was small and sad and vaguely prison-like (Chris’ words, not hers). 

After their talk at Starbucks, Camille expected Chris to text frequently the first couple of days and eventually start to pull away. Ghosting was a real epidemic nowadays and she refused to have any expectations about anyone, especially Chris. 

(Peter would say she’s bracing for impact and protecting herself from rejection and disappointment. But whatever.)

Due to Chris going through pre-production of Avengers 4 and Camille’s training of cadets and analysis at the path lab, their schedules were hellscape-ish. When they had the time (and energy) to hang out, it was during errands. 

One of her favorite memories with Chris was waiting with him at the local shop to get his tires replaced. They spent the entire time asking each other weird questions.

Would you consider cereal soup? If animals could talk, which would be the pettiest? How would you detain a one-armed man? If pro and con are opposites, wouldn’t the opposite of progress be congress? Just normal philosophical questions you ask your platonic man-friend in the most depressing Discount Tire in Boston. Eventually, the manger asked them to stop freaking out the patrons. Chris couldn’t stop laughing at his request so Camille had to drive the car back to his house. 

And according to Chris, one of his favorite memories with her was helping (not really) re-paint her apartment. He blasted Disney songs and sang along while Camille rolled a stripe of off-white paint up his neck every time he was off-key. He had retaliated by flicking paint at her and it led to an all-out paint war. Camille thought the spots on her ceiling gave it character. 

Being friends was easy, easier than it should’ve been. 

For the first time in a long time, Camille felt _lighter_, if that was even possible. It had always been difficult for her to be happy. It took conscious effort, happiness shouldn’t be hard, right? So she pushed herself to be happy, to make herself more normal, which made her more upset. Her therapist said it was because she had ‘constant sensitivity to the world around her’ and that in turn, made her ‘a great doctor and investigator’. 

That had been a bad session. 

And before she met Peter, she constantly worried she was a sociopath—so indifferent and arrogant and lost to the world around her. Everything was just so loud sometimes so she just stopped listening, except to the voice in her head. That voice always seemed the loudest. 

She still got worried some days. She saw the worst humanity had to offer and never blinked, that had to cause some destruction and desolation from the mind. But then she saw a small act of kindness like a stranger helping a dog or a random stranger making a baby laugh and felt warm inside and got confused all over again. 

It was exhausting. 

But, her therapist (and Maddox) assured her that because she was so worried about being a good person, she was a good person. Philosophically, that made sense i.e. I think therefore I am. Logically, not at all i.e. crazy people don’t think they’re crazy. 

Pathetic. 

Her mind could never shut up. It went around and around in a circle like a hamster on a metal wheel—directionless and pointless. The only time she felt still and _quiet_ was when she saved lives and helped people. 

_Arrogance is often mistaken for confidence and self-assuredness._

‘Yeah and it’s also sign of deep insecurity and unhappiness.’

But back to Chris and away from the shattered sight of her mind. Chris was…patient, unflinchingly honest, and…fun. With his boyish charm and personality, Camille felt like she could join him in his silliness without repercussions. But, Chris wasn’t just a frat boy with a good sense of humor. He was…smart and intellectual and didn’t get intimidated by her opinions. The duality of a man, Camille joked. But it wasn’t a joke. He truly was both and neither. It was confusing and gut-wrenching and amazing.

And surprisingly, they still had Staredowns which then led to heated silences. And both were not that good with the concept of personal space. But it was fine. 

Everything was fine. 

“Your phone is ringing!” Chris shouted.

Camille ran back to the hideous yellow couch Chris had and turned off the sitcom they weren’t watching.

“Straka-Reyes.”

“You know you really should properly introduce yourself when you answer the phone”, announced Mara.

Camille rolled her eyes so far into the back of her head, it was a miracle they came back to the proper place. She gave Chris an annoyed look, he was pulling her hair. She smacked his hand and he fell back dramatically.

“Oh I’m sorry. Straka-Reyes, first born and major disappointment speaking. How’s that?”, Camille answered dryly.

“Much better thank you”

“What do you need? I’m busy.”

“I’m hurt dear, can’t a little sister call her big sister to talk?”, replied Mara with a sweet, saccharine voice. She didn’t believe it for a millisecond. 

“Yeah Mara you have never once, in your entire existence, called me because you wanted to talk. What do you need? And how much is bail?”

“That was 1 time! And it was a misunderstanding. I need you come home for 7 days.” Camille snorted. No one could say the Straka-Reyes’ were tactful.

“Why?”

“Because I’m asking nicely.” Ooh, that sounded like a threat. Now Camille was interested.

“You want me to stay a week in North Carolina?”

“I already said a week.”

“Really? Are you sure? Because my days of the week underwear only go to Thursday.” Chris snorted at that. 

“You’re not funny.” Literally everyone thought she was funny, fuck off.

“I’m not staying a week at home unless you give me a good reason.” 

“Fine. My boyfriend and I are meeting Mom and Dad and Mom will scare him off and Dad will freak him out. So I need you to be the buffer.”

“So you go for antisocial gremlin who carries a Glock 19.” 

“Exactly.” 

“No.”

“Why not?”, Mara whiningly asked. 

“Because I am not playing buffer for you and the family. Mom is just gonna judge me for well…existing and Dad is gonna look like a kicked puppy because he thinks I’m unhappy, I’m not going.” 

“You owe me.”

Camille had to laugh at that. “I have not owed you anything since you were in high school. I know better than to make deals with imps.” 

“That’s rude. I’m not the devil.” The funny thing is—Mara knew she was a menace but she preferred more colorful monikers, like minx or Machiavellian. But, she was just so fun to annoy so…

“Oh I apologize. The Antichrist.”

“I hate you.” 

“Mara I refuse to go to go to the parent’s house for 7 days because you want to see how the boyfriend will react to the eccentric, high-strung liberalness that encapsulates our family.”

“You’re mean.”

“Very clever.” 

“Why aren’t you seeing anyone anyway?” Crap, Camille was hoping she forgot that comment about dating. 

“Goodbye.”

“No do not hang up! If you don’t want to come alone, just bring Maddox. Mom likes him. Even more than she likes you some days.”

“No. And I refuse to talk to you about my dating life.”

“Why not? This is what sisters do besides you haven’t been with anyone since...”

Camille hung up on her then. Nosy thing, just like Mom. 

Camille threw her phone into the couch while Dodger took his chance and vaulted into her lap. He really needed to stop aiming for the crotch when he jumped on her. She turned to Chris and, as usual, Chris was smiling softly at her. His head was cushioned against the pillow and his hands. The sight was commanding but comforting but...forced. Almost like he was trying to calm a wild animal. She wondered how much he heard, hopefully not a lot. But knowing her luck, probably all of it. Mara was very loud. 

“So that was my sister. Younger sister, much less refined than the ravishing creature sitting before you.”Camille said awkwardly.

Chris was quiet for a second. His eyes looked down like he was thinking of saying (or asking) something. Eventually, he looked up and laughed, “You know I was hoping the stories you’ve told me about your family were embellished. But it seems you’re all batty.” 

“She’s always been like that—bold and audacious and crazy. She’s the biggest piece of work I have ever come across but she’s always been one of the best humans I know.” Camille loved her sister, more than life, more than herself even if she made her wanna slip some arsenic into her coffee. 

“You’ve told me”, Chris replied softly. At first, Camille couldn’t read his expressions. She was always looking for some underlying emotion but he was always honest, it made her unsteady.

But now, she has become well-trained in the Expressions of Chris Evans. Right now, he seemed…sad. “It seems you’ve told me all about your family and your team at the FBI and their histories but you haven’t said much about yourself.” 

“I don’t like talking about myself,” Camille shrugged. 

“Well I like talking about you. We should do more of it.”

“Ever the charmer Christopher.” Camille looked down and started kissing Dodger’s perfect head. He always said shit like that. It was a part of his unflinchingly (and sometimes annoying) honesty. 

‘Tell me about yourself’ and ‘Tell me about your life before the FBI.’ 

She _hated_ talking about herself. It was the bane of her existence when she was applying for med school. It was a miracle she wrote a coherent personal statement. She had always found the people around her to be worth talking about. They were amazing. 

‘Tell me about your life before the FBI’

He didn’t want to hear about that. It was all about Peter and their relationship. He didn’t want to hear about the man she had been with for 10 years and their life together especially how slow it got last couple of years and how his death paralyzed her into a near catatonic state and the guilt and shame that manifested invariably into her psyche. 

Yeah, he didn’t want to hear that. He wanted to hear happy things. 

So they talked about him and his beautiful family. They talked about his time with Marvel and his filmography before and what books he was reading and what he planned to do in the film industry in the future. Camille loved hearing him talk about his family and his plans and his passions. Like she said, the people around her were worth talking about. 

But Chris was patient. He didn’t push her to talk about anything she didn’t want to…just nudged her a bit. She’d tell him…one day…maybe. 

Chris noticed her silence. His pensive blue eyes seemed to only want to focus on her. And those eyes were intimidating so like the adult she was, she looked away and starting playing with Dodger’s fur. 

Eventually, Chris sighed deeply and like the perfect human he was, changed the subject. “So you ready to go to dinner?” He sat up from the couch and put his arms on his legs. He was barefoot, he always seemed so comfortable. If she was a worse person, she would be jealous. 

Grateful for the subject change, Camille jumped up, “Yep.” 

As they got in the car, Camille plugged in her phone and checked her messages. Mara and Davian were annoying as usual. Murphy was asking if she could move her 12 hour hospital shift to next week. Well, that was Future Camille’s problem. 

Interrupting her thoughts, Chris determinedly asked, “Have I apologized enough for the paparazzi thing?” 

Oh yeah the paparazzi thing. Chris was always way more upset about it that she was. Whenever they hung out in public, Chris would always stay a sidewalk’s length away from her, not even facing her when they talked. He would always suggest places that were discreet or places where no cameras were allowed. 

And as hard and long as it was to convince Chris, Camille didn’t give a flying fuck. He valued his privacy and she respected that. She didn’t exactly want the paparazzi to get a picture of her either, Murphy would have an aneurysm and sicc paperwork duty on her for a month. Besides, the media was mean.

It was all pointless drivel that people ate up because they were so unhappy with their lives that complaining and inserting themselves into a celebrity’s life, distracted them long enough to not feel so average in their day-to-day life. 

‘Ha! Pot meet kettle Camille.’

Plus, they would probably call her ugly or fat or short or all of the above. She got enough death threats at her work, she didn’t need any from his fans. So they were practically strangers in public. Camille gave zero fucks about his forced indifference, they were spending time together, why should she care? 

Chris always seemed very angry and frustrated about it. When Camille confronted him about it, he went quiet. Only after a minute of tense silence, he answered, “I don’t want to hide you like some dirty little secret.” 

It was sweet that he worried but it was pointless, she knew her value, even if her brain told her otherwise sometimes. Mental Camille was stupid, Actual Camille was worthy. That's what her therapist taught her. So Camille had responded, “Your opinion of who I am matters more to me than some tabloid.”

That day, Chris looked at her like she was the most precious thing on Earth. Like if he took his eyes off her for one second, she’d disappear. He was ridiculous, she wasn’t going anywhere. 

When they got to Leone’s, the hostess nodded to them and led them to a table in the back, near an exit. Camille loved competent people. 

“You have been here hundreds of times; do you even have any new to try?” Camille asked. 

“No but you do and I want to experience all your firsts with Leone’s pizza.” Chris was bouncing in his seat like a kid on a sugar high. She put her hand on his thigh to calm him down. Seriously, it was too late in the evening for over-excited puppies. 

“Dirty.”

Chris pinched her thigh for beating him to the joke. He was as crass as her, how dare he act so innocent. 

The waitress came by and asked Chris if he wanted the usual. (Meat lover of course. What a goober). And looked at Camille like she was a stain on her shoe. At this point, she had gotten used to it. She enjoyed staring them down and seeing their faces turn red. And Chris (when he noticed) got thoroughly annoyed (he ranted about it in the car) but like a gentlemen, ignored her existence and looked at Camille instead. 

She tried not to be too happy about that. Mostly she failed. 

“And for you?” the waitress asked with the most bored expression on her face. Really, she was being ridiculous. Neither of them had a chance with Chris. 

Just to mess with her, Camille replied, “I’ll take the least-ordered pizza on the menu.”

Chris whipped his head up from his beer and looked at her insanely. (He had foam on his beard, silly man.) 

That seemed to shake the waitress out of her un-professionalism, “Um…I don’t know what that is exactly.”

“Best guess.”

“Um the…uh the Veggie Lovers…”

“Perfect.” Camille smiled innocently. Really, this was just too easy. Delusional Waitress walked away and left. 

Camille was calmly drinking her water when Chris knocked her with his shoulder. “What is wrong with you?”

Her first thought was ‘what isn’t wrong with her’ but right behind it was ‘ok that was unexpected’. Was he mad? She wasn’t too mean to her. And she wasn’t staking her claim or anything. She had no claim to begin with. In an instant, Camille thought of every possible apology in human existence. In a millisecond, she ended with her tipping the Delusional Waitress 30%. 

“I told you to get the Pepperoni with Extra Cheese so we could share.” 

Oh he wasn’t mad. Camille kinda hated how she relaxed after that. Maddox was right, she had been alone too long.

“Well she was being ridiculous. And I thought I’d freak her out a little. Besides, we can share the Veggie Lovers, you need your greens so you can grow up big and strong.” 

Chris slowly smirked. Uh oh. She just poked the bear. He set his beer down, crossed in his arms and laid them gently on the table. “I think you know very well that I’m already big and strong”, he teased. Chris tilted his head a little, exposing more of his neck and beard. His pupils were so dilated she couldn’t see the clear blue he had. He was leaning in close. Too close.

Well that was unfair. His eyes and his…Chris-ness distracted her. She couldn’t form a coherent comeback for that. His hair looked soft, she wondered if it felt as good as it looked. Her hand twitched. She caught herself before Chris noticed and ordered her limbs back under control. 

He smiled as if he was proven right about something. His eyes caught her lips and Camille stopped moving. They both stopped moving. He didn’t look so smug anymore. 

“Sorry to interrupt but here you go.” Waitress was back with the food. 

Both Chris and Camille jumped apart. Chris looked at the table next to them while Camille turned to play with her silverware. They both really needed to learn personal space. 

“Um…” Chris said, clearing his throat. “Thank you very much.” 

The waitress sheepishly put down the pizzas and sped away like her hair was on fire. Camille almost wanted to join her, instead she released the breath she had been unknowingly holding.

They haven’t looked at each other since the Staredown (pt. 15ish or something). Camille was sitting still while Chris ran his hands up and down his form-fitting pants nervously. That was…awkward. But, like the idiots they were, the second they both looked at each other, they started laughing. They were so ridiculous. Camille recovered first and she touched Chris’ shoulder to shut him up. The patrons were looking at them now. 

“Let’s eat.” Chris was still smiling. He hadn’t shrugged off her hand yet. 

Unsurprisingly, the pizza was delicious. Not unforgettable like Chris bemoaned but amazing nonetheless. Of all the things they could’ve talked about, Chris asked to hear about her dreams. 

“Seriously my dreams?” Chris suspiciously asked. Out of everything he wanted to talk about, he wanted to talk about that. 

“Yeah. Why is that weird?”

It’s a little weird but so was Camille so who was she to judge? Besides, her dreams were fricking wild. 

“Well…one time, I had a dream that you and I were in my old physical chemistry class and the final was taken sitting on the carpet with crayons and the final was a word cross that had absolutely nothing to do with physical chemistry. Ironically, you passed and I failed.” 

That didn’t seem to be what Chris wanted to hear but he was charmed nevertheless. He shook himself out of his shock and started laughing. He still laughed around her a lot. 

“You should write a book on your dreams. I’d buy lots of copies.”

“Your support means a lot.”

And with that, they finished eating. Chris refused to eat her 'green monstrosity' while Camille stole the meat bits from his pizza. He shoved her away but allowed it at least 5 times.

As they packaged up their uneaten slices, Camille froze. 

Someone was watching them. She was rarely wrong and human instincts never were, someone was definitely watching them. 

It was a mousy-looking moron of a man who was sitting 5 tables away and playing with something (his camera) under the table. He wasn’t hiding very well but then again snakes didn’t need to, they were terrifying enough for everyone else to hide. She immediately relaxed and took Chris’ hand and smiled to get his attention. Innocently, Chris beamed back. 

“Do not react but someone is watching us and I think he has a camera.” 

Chris stopped moving and his smile quickly disappeared. He started looking towards the exit. 

“No no don’t react. Just look at me. I have an idea.” 

Chris immediately relaxed at her words. She kinda wanted to kill the paparazzi a little. Just a little. She left her cash on the table and subtly grabbed her purse. She needed a distraction. Camille sneakily looked around and saw an old couple, a single guy, and a girl looking at her drink sadly. No good prospects. Ok Plan B. 

Without warning, Camille jumped up and yelled, “Oh my god! Is that Chris Evans?” She pointed to the opposite side of the restaurant. Unsurprisingly, everyone looked the opposite way while Camille slapped Chris’ hat on his head and pushed him out the door. Chris unhelpfully grabbed her hand and slowed down their retreat but they made it. 

They were out the door before everyone turned back around in confusion. Chris started running down Broadway. 

“Ok so Rule Number 1 of Trying Not To Be Seen: walk not run”, quipped Camille. 

“I’m not running, I’m speed walking and the reason it feels like running to you is because you’re 5 feet tall,” Chris joked breathlessly. 

“Hey! I am 5’4. I was the tallest girl in my undergraduate research lab.”

“What did they employ? Mice?”

Uncalled for. Camille jumped on his back and grabbed his hat in retaliation. He wasn’t getting it back, mark her words. Of course, being as tall as a fucking tree allowed him to have more leverage and he easily scooped her up from her waist and effortlessly put her on his shoulder. She had a great view of his ass. If she had less self-control she would’ve smacked it childishly. Instead, she just crossed her arms and pouted. 

Chris was radiating smugness and decided to skip down the street to jostle her. Dick. 

Eventually, he put her down. She didn’t know how long he had carried her and she tried not to think of the implications of that fact. There were alone in the street and his hands were still on her waist. 

Camille leaned forward and wound her small hands in Chris’ shirt—just to get some leverage. His shirt was soft. He allowed himself to be held by her, that felt like a privilege. She was almost dizzy. His feet shifted and rubbed along the asphalt. That probably should’ve been a warning. That he was moving and she wasn’t. His shirt was really soft, cottony material. Warm and solid, just like him. Chris took in a shaky breath and his eyes became hooded. Camille froze. She was suddenly keenly aware of how close they were, the way her heart was slamming against her ribcage and how Chris’ mouth was just fucking _there_, parted in anticipation for something.

She always found the cartoon of a heart beating out of someone’s chest ridiculous. The heart was protected by strong muscle and tough bone, it wasn’t possible. But now she was thinking Bugs Bunny was on to something. She wondered if his heart was beating as hard and loud as hers. 

_You know you can let go, that’s what’s supposed to happen._

Camille flinched. She knew that she could be let go and…yeah. She was happy, she had a job she loved and a secure financial status and her family and her friends were healthy and safe. She didn’t need anything else, she couldn’t be greedy. 

Chris seemed to take her flinch as discomfort and pulled away, but only just. “Camille,” Chris said, his voice rough and hoarse, like the words were painful to get out. “I’m sorry.”

Right. Right. Right. This was a bad idea. They decided to be friends not—whatever the fuck just happened. 

Embarrassment started to fill her throat and spread throughout her entire system, she felt like she was choking on it. Fuck. Camille wanted to move but her body refused to cooperate as if her instincts were forcing her to stay put in Chris’ arms. 

Chris let go of Camille’s waist and stepped back. He seemed to hate the space between them. She wondered if he had a sour taste in his mouth. He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair and let out of hiss of air through his nose, he obviously wasn’t happy. 

“Sorry I didn’t…move or something,” Camille started. “I—yeah.”

Chris reached for her hand but remembered the tension in the air and pulled back, shoving his hand in his pocket. He started scuffing the sidewalk with his shoe. “Yeah me too. I just…yeah.”

He looked upset. She never wanted him to be upset so she swallowed her pride and took his hand out of his pocket. He was still warm. “I’m really sorry.”

His eyes jerked up to hers. He wanted to say something—he kept opening his mouth and closing it, she wished he would just say it. But his expression turned from dejected to understanding, he seemed to realize what she was sorry for. 

“Don’t apologize, not for that.” He managed a stiff smile and grasped her hand even tighter. He always held her hand like it was the last time—she still hasn’t figured out why. 

“I can uh—walk back to my apartment if…”

“No!” He yelled. Camille couldn’t help her wince. No. Chris would never hurt her, if he did she would kick his ass no problem. It's just...everything was a little heavy at the moment. 

“No. Don’t do that. I’ll feel like the biggest dick on the planet and I don’t care if you’re trained in Aikido, I refuse to let you walk home alone.”

“Ever the strong protector Christopher.” Camille looked down at her shoes, they were old and tattered, she should probably get new ones. 

Chris huffed out a scoff, “You don’t need a protector. You can save yourself. You don’t need me, this is purely for selfish purposes.” He looked broken by his statement, so resigned. She couldn’t help but remember a fight she had with Peter so many years ago. 

_”I feel like you don’t need me at all Camille!”_

No. This was not _that_ fight. It was—something else. 

It was Camille’s turn to huff out a scoff, “I don’t think you can ever be categorized as selfish, in this world or any world.” And she nodded, more to herself, “And yes, I can save myself…but saving oneself is incredibly lonely sometimes.”

Chris gave her a small smile. This one had some levity. “Well I can be your traveling companion.” He started walking, pulling her to his side. She still felt incredibly small next to him but it was like he was lifting her up by just his presence.

(Weird.)

He gently slapped his hat on her head and pulled her close to his chest, “I’ll bring the music.” 

That was as honest as they were gonna get tonight so Camille replied, “I’ll bring the snacks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides in the corner* I know, I know, I left you guys high and dry. It's kinda a cliffhanger but kinda not. The next one will have some happy times, I swear. I have found I am better at writing angst with a happy ending, then fluffy things. Not to say I don't enjoy fluffy bits just yeah. 
> 
> Let me know in the comments your favorite line or piece of dialogue, I love talking to you guys :)
> 
> Also, once this story is finished--should I write Chris' POV next? What would you guys like to see/read? I already have a clear timeline but maybe some one-shots for a part of the series? Can anyone guess what Camille was sorry for (really)?
> 
> As a side note, yes. Samuel L. Jackson joked in an interview that he likes anime and hentai. Maybe he was joking, maybe not. The world may never know. 
> 
> As always I sending virtual hugs and kisses to everyone! Love you guys :)


	5. Football and Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, football, and fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ALIVE! I am so sorry this took so long, but I am finishing up my last year in college and I am double majoring and basically I'm a mess. I also could not finish this chapter to save my life, I have the entire story outlined but I hate writing the middle of it. Here's a chapter, all mistakes are my own and I'm sorry it is trash but this is the weird middle portion of the story.

“Here’s your cinnamon monstrosity,” Chris yelled out without preamble. She really should’ve not given him a key for emergencies. As usual, he was wearing his Red Sox baseball cap to ‘obscure’ his identity. As if Bostonians wouldn’t notice a 6 foot tall meatball who runs out in traffic to pet a dog (she will never let him live that down). It might have worked for Clark Kent but Camille would notice Chris anywhere. 

“Don’t make fun of me, you have your vices and I have mine,” snarked Camille while she returned to her report. 

After dropping off her drink, Chris returned to his duty of fixing her faucet. Apparently, he was a ‘hands-on’ kind of guy and could figure out ‘some stupid pipeline no problem’. Camille purchased a Plumbing Do-It-Yourself for Dummies book from Barnes and Noble 2o minutes after he declared it so. He gave her a look that could melt tungsten that didn’t put a smile on her face the rest of the day. Not at all. But even he had to admit that it was helpful since he didn’t know the difference between a backflow preventer and a STUDOR vent. 

_ Oh wee lamb. _

After working in silence for about 1o minutes, Camille heard Chris sit up and prop his elbow on his knee. With the other hand, he shook off his hat and tilted his head to get a better view of her from the kitchen. Honestly, there wasn’t much for him to look at but she wasn’t gonna say that. His body tightened with dejection when she was self-deprecating. After a stretch, she went back to her work but she could still feel Chris’s encompassing eyes on her. 

“So you like cinnamon and caramel”, said Chris teasingly. It wasn’t a question so that meant he was either about to flirt or make fun of her or both. He was a multifaceted conversationalist. 

“And what, pray tell, is your point Christopher?”

“I’m just saying, I’ve noticed that you like things that start with the letter ‘c’.” Yeah, he was flirting. “I wonder what else you like.” 

“You know what else starts with ‘c’—clear off. I’m working.”

“You’re always working,” Chris muttered.

“Well I do love bees.”

Completely speeding over her comment, he said, “Seriously sourpuss. Let’s do something! As much fun as it is to fix your dump of apartment and watch you glare at paperwork, I’m getting antsy. Let’s call one of your friends—Davian or something and hang out.”

“Vibrating on my floor isn’t going to make this process any faster. Listen, that sink is gonna remain a—what did you call it—a dump, even with your magical hands.”

“Hey! I called your apartment a dump. You should splurge a little. You have the—” 

“—and due to that fact”, Camille interrupted, “I ask this question: don’t you have better things to do then hang out with me? What do actors do in their downtime? Staring at me while I work must get boring after a hot minute.”

“Watching you work would never be boring. You get this look on your face when you’re concentrated on something; like a child who just stuck a fork into a light socket.” 

Camille rolled her eyes, “I don’t look like that.” 

“Don’t worry, I find it adorable,” he replied lovingly. 

“Then I must be sex-on-a-stick when I’m angry.” 

Fake laughing, Chris snarked “You know how I know you need to take a break? Because you’re getting snippy with me and it’s not due to low blood sugar.” Standing up and brushing off the imaginary dirt off his pants, Chris sauntered towards her and put his butt right on her stack of reports, “Seriously though I have yet to meet your friends.” 

“They exist I promise.” Camille retorted playfully. She loved her friends truly, but they had a tendency to…how should she put this delicately? Horrify normal people out of sport. Then again, Chris was an actor, how normal was he? 

“Come on, we should hang out with them together. Don’t you wanna prove to me that you’re not just some hermit who is probably gonna die alone surrounded by her cactuses?” 

To be honest, she wasn’t going to refute his last comment. She had given up how to explain her way out her anchoritic tendencies. Maddox, Chris, and her sister were outgoing enough to take the burden off of her shoulders. 

“I like a small number of charity cases.” Camille joked while taking a sip of her ‘cinnamon monstrosity’. “That’s another ‘c’ word for you,” she pointed out. 

Chris stood up from his chair and walked towards her closet while shouting, “Where are your tennis shoes?” 

Oh no. Camille knew where he was going with that. She skipped out of her seat to distract Chris from finding her very bad hiding spot for her athletic shoes. “They are somewhere you where you will never find them.” 

“You are the worst liar on the planet. I bet you put it under that blue jacket that you refuse to throw away.”

Damn. 

“Ok fine if we are going to work out, then I pick the activity. If I have to be humiliated by your athletic prowess, it’s gonna be under my terms.” 

“You are athletic in your own right, you’re just not used to someone being better at something than you.”

Camille’s mouth fell open unwilling, “No. Absolutely ridiculous,” she sputtered.  
Chris let out a belly laugh at her idiotic babbling while tearing through her closet. “Babe you have been the queen of every room you have walked into your entire life and you don’t know how to deal when someone is better at something than you.” Chris sarcastically put his hand understandingly over his chest. “I understand. This is a safe place.” 

Camille grudgingly pouted at that comment. She was not competitive or petty in any way, shape, or form. She was more highly evolved than that. “We are not going to play football.” 

“We are going to play football.” Of fucking course, who would’ve guessed. “Come on buck up! I swear this time I will get you to throw the perfect spiral.” Chris smirked. 

“You have a thing for lost causes don’t you Christopher?” Camille dryly replied while begrudgingly accepting her fate. Chris was as stubborn as her on most days. She went to her closet to get her clothes with Chris happily trailing behind. 

As she neared her bedroom, Camille pivoted and shut her bedroom door succinctly in his face. “You don’t get to see this show.” 

“What if I pay handsomely?” Chris leered on the other side of the door. 

“You wouldn’t be able to afford or handle me,” Camille quickly retorted while changing into her workout clothes.

“I’d like find out,” he responded. There was a seriousness in his voice that Camille was not ready to address yet, so she ignored it. “I’ll meet you at the car.” 

Ugh. This is gonna suck. 

And big shocker, it sucked. This man had to get tired eventually, right? “Camille! You gotta try, you can’t just sit on the field and pout every time I catch you.” 

Unfortunately, she had stooped to the level of pouting on the grass. He was just too fast and athletic and muscular and just plain annoying. 

“Weren’t you a cheerleader in high school? You must have some respect for football,” Chris yelled out from the opposite side of the field while tossing that godforsaken ball between his palms. 

Ah yes. She did cheer in high school, but it was to stave off her boredom and make herself look good on college applications. She used to channel her athleticism into gymnastics but after quickly realizing it was a lot of injuries and heartache for something that she wouldn’t go to the Olympics for, she retired and coached instead. 

And Camille would argue she was a very good actor when it came to giving a flying fart about football and basketball. She gave people whiplash whenever they met her off the field.

“I’m not pouting. I am—I am exercising my right to not make myself look more of an idiot that I already am.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” Chris said with a soft smile on his face. He put his free hand on his knee and leaned down to her level. “Admit it. You’re having fun, even though you’re not winning.” 

Camille perked her head up at that last comment, “You said this wasn’t a competition.” 

Chris rolled his eyes playfully and chuckled, “Come on, rush me.” 

“I don’t know what that means.” 

Chris sighed, “It means try and tackle me and take the ball from me.” 

“But I won’t be able to. I am much smaller than you and I have very little muscle mass and—” 

“Try! Don’t psyche yourself out, just rush me and don’t think about it.” 

What a concept. 

_ Now he sounds like me. Maybe you’ll listen to him. _

Camille sighed and picked herself off of the dirt. Maybe if she tackled him, he’d be satisfied and allow her to go home and curl up in her blankets. Maybe she could charm him into bringing Dodger to the apartment for some cuddles. 

Oh well, she might as well dazzle Chris with her brilliance. She refused to take this punishment (yes, she will call football a punishment) lying down. 

Camille put down her head in fake defeat. She immediately felt Chris relax his freakishly large shoulders. Perfect. In a quick burst of energy, she pirouetted and sprinted from Chris. 

She heard Chris huff in annoyance and chase after her in a leisurely jog.

(Dick.)

Feeling the wind cut through her hair, she waited until Chris was 2 steps from grabbing her waist and dived rolled to the right. Unable to stop his momentum, Chris sped right past her but before he could get too far away, she hooked her elbow around his knee and forced him to collapse. 

Chris let out a girlish squeak and attempted to brace with his free arm but Camille grabbed the offending wrist and pulled it to her chest allowing him to fall safely on his back. 

After he landed with a rough ‘oof’, she took the offending ball out of his hands and humpfed with victory. 

_ You still are the worst competitor on this Earth love. _

While Camille was feeling really good about herself, Chris seemed stunned into silence. His arms hadn’t moved from their position and his mouth gaped with indignation. He looked absolutely adorable. Camille couldn’t help but impishly smile back. 

After a couple seconds (or hours, she couldn’t tell), she turned on her brain. All Camille could heard was a heartbeat rushing through her ears and Chris’s heavy breathing. 

It seemed like he couldn’t catch his breath, his chest moving up and down in quick succession like he just ran a marathon. Just as she noticed the dilation in his pupils, Camille realized where she was. 

(Oh I’m right over his crotch.)

Out of instinct, she tensed and lessened the weight off his hips but before she could move too far, Chris pulled her back down, his large hands curling possessively around her waist.

They both weren’t breathing.

God, he was gorgeous. Chris’s presence on camera had always been a screaming, phrenic thing. Like once he entered the room, you couldn’t look at anything else. 

A bombshell, a knockout, an Adonis. 

Completely unattainable. 

But the magnificence underneath her was nothing like that. The Chris underneath her was a slow, creeping beauty that was engulfing her completely. A beauty that left her heart seizing in her chest just from watching his everyday movements. Even the most mundane act of his was a work of art in her eyes. 

Unconsciously, Camille tightened her grip on the ball (why the hell was she still holding it) and averted her eyes.

But Chris was having none of it. 

In retaliation for her looking away, he tightened the grip on her hips to force her gaze back on him. It was a little terrifying how easily he could do that. 

Before she did something they both weren’t ready for, Camille rolled off his thighs onto the grass. 

They both started breathing again. (Albeit, not steadily)

Chris started running his hands over the grass creating a wisping sound that lulled them both back down to Earth. 

After a while, Camille chanced a look at Chris. And, almost immediately, broke out in a fit of hysteric giggles. God she was crazy. Maybe Mara was on to something. What was she even doing? Chris and her had both agreed that friends was the way to go. Just because he looked at her like she was the last woman on Earth and couldn’t help but smile every time she walked in the room and spent all his limited free time with her didn’t mean anything…right? 

Chris responded in kind by bellowing out his signature laugh and left boob grab. Playfully huffing, Chris asked, “So…you wanna talk about that?”

Letting out a scoff, Camille replied, “Do you? 

“No. Do you?” 

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Just like that.”

Turning on his side and propping his head on his hand, Chris assured, “Just like that.” 

Unable to stop herself, Camille took his hand and put their joined hands on her stomach. Chris closed his eyes in contentment while Camille looked pensively up at the nebulous sky. 

A sharp ring shook them both out of their reverie. (Who kept their phones on ring nowadays anyway?) Oh shit that was Camille’s. Darting up in a panic, Camille slid into their makeshift cubby on the grass and picked up the phone. 

“What?” Camille answered sharply.

“You know if I didn’t love and respect you as much as I did, I could pummel your ass with a baseball bat for that tone.” Murph monotonously replied. 

“Sorry was doing…something. Not important forget about it. What do you need?” 

“I have many things I need but I’ll only ask for two. Have you looked at the reports regarding Syria?”

“Of course I have. It’s another fucking genocide and nobody gives a shit because it’s in the Middle East and our beloved president can’t even spell Syria.” 

During her rant, Chris had sauntered over and started packing their bags. He heard the tone of Work when he heard it. 

“Well, our boss’s boss is looking to put together a team to go and help the Yazidi rebuild i.e. medical training, cultural anthropology database building, training of new cadets that sort of thing.” 

“Who’s on the shortlist?” Camille already knew the answer but she asked anyway.

“Dr. Perry of Anthropology and her team, Dr. Ruiz of the U.S. Rangers and his team, and you and whoever you deem worthy.”

“When and how long?”

“Since we can’t cut through red tape and things take forever in the federal government, we should be heading down in the next 2 months. That is, if you choose to go.” 

Camille sighed. She was supposed to be off today but whatever. Chris grabbed her bag before she had a chance and started leading them to the car. 

“Why wouldn’t I go?”

“Well the last time I sent you overseas, you came back almost in pieces and you said ‘never again’.” Murph replied honestly. 

Bitch slapped by her memories, Camille skidded to a stop. Chris worriedly grabbed her hand and troubled gazed at her. 

“…Yeah right…I did say that. I did say—maybe I’ll change my mind.”

“Camille. I am begging you to sleep on it. You don’t need to go and it is months away. The only reason I am telling you is because it’s my job.”

Camille sighed and lightly slammed her hand on the door of the car. She could tell Chris was starting to get worried, he had started ushering her into the car so they could have some semblance of privacy. He didn’t turn on the car yet and she was starting to see her breath. 

Camille dragged her free hand through her hair and rubbed her face. All she could smell was smoke and blood, sirens were blaring outside the tent and someone was screaming. 

She was so completely out of it that she didn’t realize she was clutching Chris’s hand so hard that it was turning blue. Chris used his free hand to shake her out of stupor. Camille was jerked back to the present. 

Fuck. 

She was in Chris’s car, she was wearing shorts and tennis shoes, she was clinging Chris’s hand, and she could taste the coffee she had made earlier that morning. 

Fuck. 

She needed to get ahold of herself, she was gonna make Chris shit a brick out of worry. Taking 5 deep breaths, Camille responded softly, “I’ll think about it.”

Murphy, the saint that she was, didn’t say anything. Both women let the silence fill the void of their conversation. 

“And one more thing—”

Camille groaned and dramatically slammed her head on Chris’s shoulder. Chris immediately put his hand on her hair and began to massage her curls. 

“Our team is requested at a gala next weekend. Basically, just a brownnosing event with really bad food. Everyone is getting tortured and no one is exempt. You can bring someone to lean against.”

Now, that was an idea. Would Chris even consider going to a stupid event with her? Was there paparazzi involved? Did he have to go through a security check?

Camille chanced a look at Chris. Her head was still on his shoulder. She curled her feet under her and leaned more into Chris. Like she could fade wholly into him without a trace. Chris still looked troubled, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. He looked as if he was 10 seconds from grabbing her phone to hang up on Murphy and ask what the fuck was going on.

Making up her mind, Camille turned back to the conversation, “What if, say, I wanted to bring someone who is umm—well-known and uhh…would stick out in a crowd especially a group of movie-goers?”

“Oh you mean Chris Evans. Yeah, Simon told me.”

Camille sputtered in indignation, what a big mouth. Just as she was about to explain that she was being careful, no one had her picture yet and it was a friend-friend situation, Murph interrupted, “Yeah he can come if he wants. But he can’t be blabbering about his disdain for the President. I’ve seen his twitter feed, he will need to dial it back for the superiors and shit. And tell him not to worry, no press allowed and everyone in attendance will be discreet.” 

Ok fair. Say nothing in public, rant and yell in private. “I’ll ask him. Does he need to do anything to attend? Like security check-wise?”

Snorting unattractively, Murph replied, “Like Captain America is a threat to national security.” With that last retort, she hung up. 

Clicking the phone off, Camille turned to Chris. “How do you feel about a party?”

Looking incredibly annoyed at her deflecting abilities, Chris sighed and closed his eyes. “What kind of party?”

“A ‘everyone will be kissing ass and you will want to gouge out your eyes with a dull spoon within 10 minutes’ kind of party.”

Raising his eyebrows and snorting, Chris quipped, “Sounds like L.A. When?” 

“Next weekend.” 

After turning on the car, Chris turned his torso towards her. “So were just gonna breeze through what just happened when you were talking about Syria.” On the surface, he looked angry but Camille knew that he was just agitated and nervous for her.

“It’s nothing to worry about. At least not until next month.”

“Camille you were shaking and you damn near broke my hand. We are going to talk about this.”

“Ok yes. We will talk about it but first, the party. Do you wanna be my plus one?”

“Of course I fucking will. Now, back to this Syria thing.”

“Seriously? That’s it? No asking about paparazzi or press or—”

“At this moment, I don’t care about the press.” Chris shouted. “What about Syria?”

Shrugging her shoulders in defeat and sighing heavily, Camille replied, “They want me and a couple of others to go to Syria and help with medical training and such. It’s not a big deal, I’ve done it before.” 

Chris blanched at her answer, like it was the worst news he would ever get. After a moment, he looked down at his hands. “Are you—are you going to go?”

Camille didn’t know how to answer. Before, she would have packed her bags and ran to the airport but now…

“I don’t know. The last time I went, it didn’t go…well. But, I might—fuck, I don’t know. I’m leaning towards no but never say never.” 

Chris leaned back and banged his head on the headrest. He wasn’t looking at her like he usually did. Chris had this intimidating quality of always looking at her in the eyes when he talked, like nothing else was more important that looking at her. But now, his eyes were turned to the roof of the car and his hands were clutched in fists. It was the stance one took when they were about to cry and they didn’t want their loved ones to see. 

“…You would be safe right? Like full time protection from soldiers and away from the war zone.” He asked licking his lips nervously and his voice trembling. 

Camille took his hand and lightly grabbed his chin to look at her, “Yes. We would be away from the war zone and soldiers would be by my side the whole time.”

He didn’t look reassured. But then again, he wasn’t an idiot. He knew many things could happen even if soldiers guarded her 24/7 and she was as far from the warzone as possible. And Camille refused to lie to him, especially about this. 

“I will be safe as I possibly can. I promise.” 

Sighing shakily, Chris buried his face in her neck. His hands were holding her as tight as before but with noticeable tremors in his grip. In response, Camille ran her fingers through his hair and clutched his shoulder. 

“I’m not going anywhere Christopher,” assured Camille. 

“I know. I know. I just—I forgot how badass you are.” Chris joked. He was near tears but at least he was smiling again. 

Chuckling back, she replied, “I’m not a badass. I’m just trying to do a job.”

“Take the compliment Camille.” Chris retorted playfully. 

“Okay.”

This was supposed to be a good day. Now she had gone off and made Chris cry, she was literally the worst. Knowing that he was probably gonna break down and cry in her lap the second they got home, Camille switched to happier topics, “So…the party.”

Sniffing and dragging his hand down his face, Chris put the car into drive. “Yes the party. I will be there.” He gazed at her with shining blue eyes, “I’ll be there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geez this is heavy but I am incapable of writing anything but heavy. Please let me know what you guys think, yall's comments are my life's blood and I love you all so very much. 
> 
> Again, I am so sorry this took so long, I could give you so many excuses but I'm sure you guys don't wanna hear it. I also wanna apologize if this chapter is trash its the middle portion and I am literally the worst at writing the middle portion. 
> 
> I love you guys! Please leave me comments, feedback, criticism, kudos etc. It helps me get up in the morning :)


	6. My Favorite Person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves! I'm back sooner than I expected but this was the chapter I was waiting to write but we had to build up to it. It's the longest one and it was the easiest to write so I'm really excited. I promise the slow-burn is almost over only like 2-3 more chapters. I know I'm evil. 
> 
> Another thing, I am about to start my last undergrad semester, so the next chapter might be a little late but hopefully this will tide you over. I promise (barring my death) this story WILL BE FINISHED. Hope you all have enjoyed the ride so far. 
> 
> Kudos, comments, likes, subscriptions, bookmarks are always appreciated. This story has really helped me come to terms with everything. I love you all.

Ripping open Camille’s closet, Maddox bellowed from her bathroom, “Have you seen my coal black skinny tie?”

“Yes, I have. It’s in that city with whats-her-face”, Camille replied sarcastically while fruitlessly searching for her coat. Honestly, that tie had been missing for 2 years and he’s just now noticing. 

“Well as long as it’s safe.”

“Time?” She grabbed her coat from the hanger, yanking half her jackets to the floor. Damn it, there were so late. 

“18:35. Murphy is gonna kill us.”

“Rats!” Camille cursed. 

With perfect timing, the doorbell rang signaling one last (late) person had arrived. 

“Cam, can you get that?”

“I’m not dressed yet.” Camille fibbed. She knew who it is, he could let himself in. Besides, she couldn’t find her fucking shoes. 

“You’re not?” Maddox asked impishly. “It’s 18:35.”

“So?”

“Finally, that stick-up-your-ass punctuality of yours has worn off.”

“Stop.” (For the record, she was never late unless Maddox was involved. He took for-fucking-ever to get dolled up). 

“My baby’s a woman!” Maddox crowed dramatically. 

Camille heard the front door open with a creak—she should probably change the locks again. Sheepishly, Chris hollered, ”Hello! The front door is open. And can I just say it is hilarious but also incredibly worrying that you idiots leave the door unlocked.”

“We have no shame nor fear.” Maddox answered. “We’re almost done.”

She could practically hear Chris rolling his eyes, “Please tell me your door wasn’t open all night last night.”

“Ah who cares, it’s not like Camille has anything of value in here.” Maddox replied while jumping into his dress shoes. He definitely looked like a new born deer doing that. Punching Chris playfully in the arm, “Hey Evans! You look hot!”

With a whine, Chris cried “Hey hey hey! I didn’t know you had to wear a black tie.” 

“Oh calm down its dark blue no one will notice.” She could hear Maddox digging through her couch cushions for the keys. He probably just dumped everything on the floor for Camille to clean when she got back. Dick. 

“AHA!” Maddox yelled victoriously, pulling the keys from the couch and jogging to the door. “Camille! Let’s go!” 

Ugh, she hated heels. Camille sped walked through the door and flipped her hair out of her collar. “Hello my dear Christopher!” He looked downright edible. He had toned down his ‘red carpet look’ with a simple black suit and midnight blue skinny tie, making himself look smaller than he actually was. His beard was freshly groomed and she smelled a hint of sandalwood on his person, she kinda wanted to bury her face in his neck to get a better whiff. You know, for science. ”I love that tie, you look downright delectable.” Camille stated while softly caressing his chest.

Scuffing his shoes in shyness, Camille observed a deep blush extend from his cheeks to his neck. She wondered if that ruddiness went to his chest too. 

That man really did know how to wear a suit. But the sheepish reprieve didn’t last long. With a deep sigh, he reached over to button her coat for her, “Yes, thank you for telling me it was a black tie party I really appreciate it”. 

“Don’t worry about it. Everyones’ heads will be so far up their own ass they won’t notice.” It was strange to be comforting him for a change. She didn’t know what he was so worried about, it was just people from work. He didn’t have to impress them for her or anything. She gently cupped Chris’s face in her hands and dramatically called out, “God we are so late. Let’s vamoose!”

Knowing Chris had legs that worked, Camille ran out the door without him and tossed the keys (she had unthinkingly taken them out of Maddox’s hand, he was not driving), over her head so he could lock the door. 

“I can never pick you guys up here again.” Chris declared dryly. 

***

“You three are very late.” Simon stated opening the door for them. 

“Blame Scarlett O’Hara here for taking so long to get ready”, quirked Camille, pointing accusingly at Maddox. 

“Does that mean you’re Rhett Butler?”

“Go fly a kite.”

“Children, if you do not stop, I will separate you both.” Chris laconically stated while stepping between them. He put his arms over their shoulders. “I gotta say it’s strange being the adult for a change.” 

Ignoring Chris’s false chastising, Maddox reached over to flick Camille’s ear, “Take a seconal.”

“Excellent idea Judy”, she retorted whilst lunging for Maddox’s neck. Well prepared as always, Chris leaned into her space to push her back to her side. 

“Just once, act like adults.” Murphy commanded, “Or I will spike both of your drinks with lorazepam and watch you drool on the floor while sipping my martini.” As usual, Murph looked like a goddess in her cobalt blue sheath dress. No woman could ever compete with her, all Camille wanted to do was grovel at her feet and fetch her drinks all night. 

_ A little gayer please. _

‘Listen Ben Wyatt said it best. Leave me alone.’

“What’s the job tonight boss?” Maddox asked like the good solider he was. 

“Mingle, smile, don’t be hermits. Yes, I am talking to you Camille; if I catch you hiding the coat room again, I will grab you by the scruff of your neck and make you talk to a Republican.”

“Now that’s just cold.”

“And Maddox—"

Under her breath, Camille muttered, “Hehe, your turn.”

“You are not allowed to flirt with anyone except anyone in this immediate circle.” Murphy gestured tightly. Maddox couldn’t live without charming someone 24/7 and it had gotten him into trouble. “We don’t need a repeat of the 2013 luncheon.”

“You’ll never let that go will you? I didn’t know she was married to Leo. How long am I going to be persecuted for that?” 

“A little while longer I’d say. You almost caused a Western shootout.” Simon murmured. Camille nudged him for that one. 

“And Simon as usual be yourself, you’re the perfect child.” Murph smiled sweetly. She definitely played favorites, fudging unfair. 

Simon looked positively thrilled at the praise and preened while Camille and Maddox unattractively rolled their eyes. 

“Disperse.” Murph commanded. “You all make me tired.” And with that demand, she left them in the center of the room too intimidated to move without an order; probably to scare some supervisor into giving their team a bigger budget. 

“Wow…should I be happy or terrified she didn’t give me any orders?” Chris inquired shakily. 

All three resonated, “Terrified.”

“Terrific.” Chris clutched Camille’s hand so hard she could feel her circulation being cut off. In solidarity, Camille rubbed her fingers comfortingly on the veins of his wrist. 

“Well since I’m not allowed to flirt with anyone outside this circle. Simon wanna dance?” Maddox charismatically teased whilst wagging his eyebrows. 

“I’d rather reenact a Stephen King novel before resorting to that.” Simon offhandedly retorted as he walked away crisply. 

Maddox followed in shocked outrage.

“Your friends should have a TV show. Honestly, I’ve met actors less interesting than you guys” crowed Chris. He gave her his arm in a gentlemanly fashion. 

Unthinkingly, she took his arm and started to walk them to the bar. “I can’t imagine RDJ to be less interesting than us plebeians.” 

“You know with the amount of praise you give RDJ, I’m beginning to think you’re an Iron Man gal.”

“I detect a hint of jealously.” 

“Oh please, everyone is in love with Robert including me. Besides, you remind me of Tony Stark.” 

Well I do look spanking in gold and red. By the way, you never told me what your father thought about that article I sent him.” 

“Oh you mean the article whose title was three sentences long and I could only decipher 20% of. He loved it. He’s ecstatic that there’s another doctor in the family.” 

“Oh please I’m sure you got at least 45% of it.” Camille joked while politely waving the bartender over to order 2 beers. She wouldn’t finish it but Chris would polish it off before the night ended. 

“You overestimate my intelligence.”

“I do not i.e. I know on odd days you can walk and chew gum at the same time”, she mocked playfully. 

“So that’s the bar you have set for men? No wonder you’re single.” 

“I’m single because I am sick of people telling me I need a man.” Camille countered while taking a sip of beer. And lo and behold, beer still tasted like piss water. She was glad to see some things never change. 

“You don’t need a man Camille.” Chris took the beer out of her hand and winked leeringly. “You need a champion.” 

Now it was Camille who couldn’t help her blush. What a ridiculous notion. 

Chris leaned into her space and put his hand lightly on her waist. (Shockingly, they still hadn’t learned the concept of personal space.) 

“Have I told you how breathtaking you look tonight?” It was like Chris had never seen her dressed up before. He slowly looked at her up and down, smile growing when he saw the heels and lace, the way the dark blue dress hugged her stomach and breasts, her light makeup and perfectly curled hair and his eyes…his eyes went heavily lidded and combined with a smile made Camille instinctively stand up straighter and preen.

“You’ve seen me in a dress before.” From the corner of her eye, she noticed Simon and that girl for IT waltzing gracefully on the dance floor. She tried not to smile at them, but it was clear that she had the most grace and that Simon was just following her lead. 

“Camille.” 

“What?”

“You look positively breathtaking tonight.” 

For once, Camille was at a loss for words. Truthfully, she’d been slowly starting to forget why being in a relationship with Chris was a problem. A not-so-small part of her had stopped thinking it would be a bad idea. She knew she was wrong but it was getting increasingly harder for her to give a shit. “Got it,” she nodded with a gulp. “I’m…showstopping.”

“It must be exhausting for you to never to see your brilliance.” 

“It must be exhausting for you to keep complimenting me.”

“Never.”

Camille wanted to test the durability of his tie with her teeth. You know, for science. She had always been interested in the tensile strength of silk when applied to human enamel. She’s not weird. People think about that crap all the time. Right? 

Thankfully (unthankfully?), they were interrupted by—someone. Camille had forgotten her name. She sucked at names. 

The woman introduced herself (again) as Amelia and gave a good sultry look at Chris. Luckily, she seemed to possess some modem of decorum and didn’t scream ‘OMG CAPTAIN AMERICA’. But unluckily, she couldn’t seem to help herself thrusting her chest towards Chris’s purview. She started asking Chris about his life as an actor and what plans he had after A4 (as if Chris didn’t get that question enough from reporters). 

How Chris didn’t strangle reporters his entire career baffles Camille. She would’ve just left the room if someone had asked her that question over and over again. But, Chris was a better person than her so he smiled politely and gave a bullshitty, half-assed answer that she had heard him say in multiple interviews. She couldn’t help but smirk into her drink. 

Once Camille had properly tuned out, she heard Chris say “Hey have you met Dr. Straka-Reyes? She’s a biochemist who synthesized unnatural amino acids and their relationship to different substrates via fluoroscopy when she was just an undergrad.”

Camille gave him an incredulous look, she was perfectly fine watching him get pestered by the hot girl, why did he have to bring her into it? Chris just smirked and raised his eyebrows in a ‘your move’ manner. 

Fine. I guess it’s her turn to be tortured. She gave her fakest smile and started to talk about her only published work into the world of PhDs. And Amelia looked like she rather slam her wrist into the door rather than listen to her so that just made Camille talk even more. 

_ Brat. _

As she talked academic nonsense around Amelia, she saw Chris subtly looking at his watch. He was timing how long it took for her to get tired of Camille’s ramblings and make a quick exit. It was a game they played whenever they had to interact with the populous. Shockingly, Chris held the record of 2 minutes with a conversation about musicals with Davian. She tried to disqualify that because Maddox got distracted easily but in the court case of Camille & Scott Evans vs. Everyone Else, it was decreed that Chris held the record. 

Amelia held out longer than she thought she would (about 3 minutes and 42 seconds by Chris’s mark) before making the excuse that someone was calling her name (no one was) and they’d talk later (they wouldn’t). 

And because Camille didn’t discriminate beauty and had absolutely no self-control, she bemoaned to Chris, “She has an amazing chest.”

“Aha!” Chris slammed his hand on the countertop, “You are a tits girl! I knew it.” 

“I’m more of an everything girl.”

“Oh please everyone has a preference.”

“Touché, however as you recall, I do have a tendency to be attracted to penis over vagina.”

Appearing out of nowhere, Maddox had to jump in like the perv he was, “Personally, I’m in love with the soul.” 

“You’re an ass man.” Chris and Camille parroted while sipping their respective drinks. 

“Please tell me I’m hallucinating and I am not hearing you idiots talk about asses and breasts at this party,” Murphy drolled. It seemed the bar was popular now because Simon materialized next to Chris, looking adorably out of place.

“Aw shoot I knew I gave everyone too much magic mushroom.” Simon retorted. Everyone had to snicker at that, it wasn’t often Simon showed some humor. 

As usual, Murphy didn’t ruffle at their antics, “I’m gonna send you to Virginia so you don’t get corrupted anymore by these heathens.”

“Too late.”

“I’ve noticed.” Murph said rolling her eyes. “Camille I need you to talk to Superintendent Bacy of the U.S. Rangers.”

“What about?”

“Higher ups want him on the team to go to Syria and apparently he’s looked you up and only wants to talk to you.”

“Joy.” Camille handed Chris her drink and purse. He put the purse on his shoulder and swayed his hips fashionably. “Simon take care of Chris, he has a tendency to run off and he doesn’t come when called.”

“I always come when  you  call”, he leered. 

With that comment, Camille left him to the wolves aka Murphy. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him cower behind Simon at the sight of Murphy melting him with her—well, everything while Maddox cackled in the background. 

Ok. This party wasn’t so bad. 

***

“I heard you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yes I did Dr. Straka-Reyes. Why is it in my interest to join your team in Syria when I’d just be a glorified bodyguard?” Wow, she already didn’t like this man. That had to be a record. 

“First of all, it’s not my team, it’s the FBI’s and second of all, I don’t give a damn whether you join us or not.” 

Bacy looked shocked by her candor. Good. “You don’t?”

Camille shrugged and leaned her weight on the wall beside her to fake relaxation, “This is why I have a hate/love relationship with the military. There is always another soldier to be a—what did you say—glorified bodyguard for the scientists.” During her tirade, Bacy had mirrored her stance against the wall, “And they are always in the most danger than the rest of us.”

“Better us than you.”

“Not to me.” One life wasn’t more worthy than another. “If I had my way, these missions wouldn’t exist in the first place.”

“Oh you’re one of those.”

“One of what?”

“Isolationists.”

“I’m not an isolationist, I just have the unfortunate experience seeing the presence of American soldiers has on the livelihood of innocent civilians in the Middle East.”

“From what I’ve read, you have been protected by American soldiers from extremists in the Middle East.”

“And do you want to know why I had to be protected?” She remembered the last time she had a rattler curled up in her path. “Because some higher up in Washington decided that his judgment was better than our guide. And that led to an unnecessary firefight which thankfully, no one was killed.” This one didn’t look like a rattler, but Camille was still thinking—fucking snake. 

“You got blown up.”

“I lived.”

“Perhaps next time you won’t.”

Now that was uncalled for. “Is that a threat Major?”

Bacy chuckled and took a sip from his whiskey, “Doc, I don’t think anybody could threaten you and survive the encounter. It wasn’t a threat, it’s a warning. We’re both seen battle and we’re having a lively discussion. No need to get testy with me.” Arrogant prick. 

“You started it.”

“And you finished it,” Bacy smirked and winked. He wasn’t as attractive as he thought he was. 

Yeah, she definitely knew this Type. The type that bullied people into submission through charisma and false bravado while simultaneously breaking their targets down with backhanded compliments and threats. 

“I’ll be on your team” he said haughtily, as if she needed him on the fucking team in the first place. 

“It’s not my team and you were already planning on going, why go through this charade?”

“I wanted to talk to you. You have quite a reputation.”

“How Harry Louis Wallace of you.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” 

“Wanna dance?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you put me through a pointless conversation to size me up and intimidate me and I don’t tolerate that kind of behavior from anyone.”

Bacy huffed sarcastically. Camille knew exactly what he was thinking: ‘bitch’, “Fine. See you in Syria. ”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well to repeat what you alluded to: you’ve already decided. And you should be nicer to me, I’ll be protecting your pretty ass over there.”

Camille did not like him. Then again, she never liked anyone. She’d ask Simon to get a vibe off of him before the night ended. He was better at reading people compared to her. Maybe it was just male behavior. 

She pulled herself off the wall and trudged towards the sight of Simon’s curly hair. She had had enough of this crap for tonight. She knew she looked angry when she reached the group because all conversation seemed to cease. 

“You ok?”

Camille grunted in affirmation. She didn’t have the energy to expand on her feelings and Chris knew it. Instead of asking her to talk about her unpleasant encounter, Chris started rubbing the small of her back comfortingly. She couldn’t help but relax and lean into his side. He always knew the right thing to do for her. 

After listening to Maddox and Reeves debate whether Star Wars or Star Trek was better for 10 minutes, Camille was shaken out of her stupor softly by Chris, “Do you wanna dance with me?”

“If I do, will you sing Oklahoma at me?”

“Not this time,” he joked.

“Then yes.”

They walked to the dance floor and effortlessly managed to merge in with the other couples. It was a dance Chris knew well enough to lead, and Camille knew well enough to not feel like an idiot. 

She wanted to talk about Chris now. He was safe territory—no hidden agendas, no intimidation, just Chris and his calming presence. But she didn’t want to force him into talking. Contrary to popular belief, Chris wasn’t the exuberant frat boy he that portrayed himself to be on screen. He enjoyed silences and darkness and solitude. Her most cherished memories with Chris involved them just reading their respective books together on the couch with Dodger slept between them. 

“I’m worried about A4.”

Camille picked her head off his chest. I guess they were gonna talk about  it  now. For weeks, Chris had been getting anxious and snippy as the date of filming descended upon them. Camille had never pushed but she knew Chris was deteriorating from the inside out. 

“What if this was all I was meant to do? I mean—I’ve done some questionable roles in the past and because of that I was considered a failed actor. But this is the biggest thing I’ve ever done and its just—ending.”

Camille didn’t interrupt him. She knew not to. While Camille couldn’t talk about her feelings all in one sitting, Chris had to get them out all at once. So she didn’t interrupt, she just put her head back on his chest. 

“It’s ending and I, I—I don’t know what I’m gonna do now. And you know, it’s not about the fame or acclaim or anything like that but its just my friends and Scarlett. It’s never gonna be the same and these, these movies that essentially saved my career are—done. Done. And you’re leaving and I’m going off to film and I feel utterly useless because you’re gonna save the world and I’m just gonna be playing pretend and acting like I made a difference in this franchise and I—”

Okay, she had to stop him there. She put her hands on either side of his cheeks and grounded him by putting her forehead on his. “Christopher. Breathe with me.

Yielding to her gentle demand, Chris began to match his breaths to her. After a while of mindlessly swaying, his hands stopped shaking around his waist and she felt him lean into her. As he opened his eyes in surrender, she barely had a second to brace for his tight squeeze. 

Camille led them to the coat room (suck it Murph) and they sat on the carpet that probably hadn’t been cleaned since the 90’s. Chris had huddled himself into the wall with an arm around his knees. He still wasn’t ready to hear her talk yet. So she waited and drew nonsensical patterns on his palm with her fingers. She hadn’t forgotten how anxious Chris could get, at least once a month he texted her without preamble saying something along the lines of ‘I’m quitting acting and I’m never coming back’. And he meant it—every single time. 

He had been in the business since he was a child. He didn’t know anything else, never considered anything else. That had taken a toll on his psyche and he knew it. The only reason he had survived was because of his family, whom he never left and they never left him. Taking the Captain America role was the hardest decision he ever had to make, and while he didn’t regret it, he definitely thought about what would’ve happened if he had said ‘no’. 

Knowing that platitudes and hollow words of encouragement wouldn’t change anything, she started humming until he was ready to hear what she had to say. 

Huffing emotionlessly, “Now who’s singing Oklahoma.”

“Shut up. It’s your fault, it’s like the small world song.” The amount of songs Chris got stuck in Camille’s head could fill the Library of Congress. 

“Okay”, Camille ceased her drawing, “I’m ready to hear what you have to say.” 

Shaking off her heels, Camille turned to face Chris fully, “Christopher. The world is shitty enough as it is. Can you imagine a world without art?”

He didn’t answer immediately but eventually, “No.”

“And no one can. No one can. That is how essential you are to this world. Just because you’re not a doctor or a soldier or a freaking cog in the machine of a large company doesn’t mean you don’t contribute to the world.” She hated this. She hated how Chris felt, she hated that she couldn’t change his feelings, she hated it all. So she decided to be logical. That had never failed her in the past. 

“The world cannot live without movies and art. You save the world by providing happiness. That’s what art does. Art gives this shitty world meaning better than knowing every inch of the human genome. Art gives humans something to aspire to because they watch you do it, they don’t read about it on a piece of paper. They watch you act the way humans should act, regardless of whatever role you take. I’ve never understood human emotion but you do and you show that through your art. And people respond to that.”

“You save the world by showing people different sides of human resilience.” People had to see it to believe it and even though it was pretend on camera, it was real and it belonged to them. “I could never do that. But you can. That’s how you save the world, and I love watching you do it.”

Chris started laughing wetly at her speech. Before he could wipe his tears away, Camille grabbed some unsuspecting coat and wiped his tears for him. She could do this for him. Helping him made sense to her. 

“You’re my favorite person in the whole world Camille Straka-Reyes.”

“You’re my favorite person too Christopher.” 

Yeah, they definitely weren’t friends. They were…something. And Camille was exhausted of fighting it. She was so fucking drained of not telling him about Peter, about Iraq, about her thoughts and dreams. She was just so fucking tired. But, she didn’t want to do this in a closet (as dramatic as they both were and they weren’t horny teenagers anymore). They both deserved actual privacy and time. 

“You know I’m still peeved at you for the tie thing.”

“Ugh drop the tie thing already. Do you think Hemingway gave a damn about what color tie he was wearing?”

“He also blew his brains out how much of a role model do you want me to make of that guy?”

Camille snorted unattractively. Okay, he had a point, not the best writer to name drop. She felt Chris brush a curl off of her neck and pin it to the top of her head, he knew how much she hated feeling hair sitting stickily on her neck.  
“We should find Murph and beg her to leave.”

“Oh don’t worry—”

“There you are!” Murph called while thrusting the door wide open. 

“She’ll find us” Camille finished weakly. 

“What are you two—is everything okay?” As abrasive as Murph was, she was sharp. 

“Yeah.” Chris answered. “Everything is perfect.” Chris was smiling at her. She felt herself relax subconsciously at the sight. 

“Okay…and before you ask, no you are not allowed to leave yet. One more hour.”

Chris and Camille both groaned dramatically. They both had had a shitty night, they deserved to leave right? But before they could complain further, Murph had slammed the door with an unspoken agreement that they would join her promptly. 

“I honestly don’t know who I’m more terrified of: my mother or her.” Chris bemused. 

“Definitely your mother.” Honestly, there was no contest. Lisa Evans had raised 4 children. Murph was scary but she hadn’t gone through labor, let alone 4 fucking times. 

“We should probably get our shit together and go back to the party.” Camille stood up and brushed the imaginary dirt of her dress. 

“The day we get our shit together will be the day hell freezes over.” 

“You know—” Chris smirked and brought his hand up beside her head, penning her in with over 180 pounds of man. A man that was dressed like a model and almost touching her chest with his except for the unspoken agreement that they wouldn’t go  that  far. “I think I deserve a kiss for the amount of crap I go through for you.” Chris joked. Please, he would walk through fire for her, as she would for him. She knew that. She had known that for a very long time. 

As her back hit the wall of the closet, Camille thought if this was anyone else, she would’ve felt trapped and annoyed. But this was different. This was like…Peter—all she had to do was ask him to stop and Chris would listen. But, she couldn’t help being a little shit (besides she didn’t want their first kiss to be in a closet), she grabbed his free hand and brushed it with her hand and put it to her lips while keeping her dark brown eyes on Chris’s magnificent blue ones. 

Chris’s pupils dilated and he took a shaky breath at her actions. She felt...powerful. “You never said where” she whispered while still keeping her lips to his hand. 

“Well, I’ll be extra specific next time.” 

Before things got more heated than they already were, Camille pulled the door open and took a breath of fresh air while walking swiftly away from the coat closet. She didn’t turn around to see if Chris was following her, she knew he was. 

As she mindlessly walked through the crowd, she was pulled to the side by a very eager Maddox. 

“Did you break your closet cherry?” Maddox giggled girlishly. 

How delicate. “No. I did not. I’m vanilla like that.” 

“Oh I never believe that for a second my dear Cam.”

“Drop it.”

“Hey.” Maddox pulled her to chairs to sit down. As they sat down, he put his palms heavily on her shoulders. “You deserve to be happy. No matter who you choose to be the love of your life, you’re my soulmate. And I will help you drag his or her bloody corpse across the living room floor if they hurt you.”

“I love how you’re first instinct for someone hurting me is killing them.” 

“You’ve never had a big brother and you need one, that’s why.” 

“I think Mara would kill Chris first.”

“Oh she would, but she would call me so I could fly out and help.” Camille started bellowing unattractively. Of course Mara and Davian would band together to kill her make-believe heart breaker. It wasn’t until Maddox was dabbing at her cheeks that she realized she was silently crying and like the sap he was, Maddox was crying with her. 

After calming down, Camille declared, “I need to talk to him.” It was time. 

Davian nodded. “Yes you do.”

But as she smiled back at him, she heard yelling at the front on the room. Both Camille and Maddox jumped to their feet and started jogging towards the door. As they got closer, they heard very loud clicks and shouting and lights. Very bright lights. 

She could see someone shoving Murphy and Simon and instinctively, Camille reached for her baton. Except she didn’t have it. She wasn’t a spy, she didn’t carry weapons to a party. Maybe she should start. 

With his agile feet, Simon had made his way through the crowd and towards Maddox and Camille. Maddox immediately put himself in front of them both. 

“Paparazzi got wind that Chris is here. Security already called the cops and Murphy is talking to them.”

Fuck. 

Who fucking blabbed? It wasn’t any of her people and she doubted people who were invited to this stupid party wanted the paparazzi to show up and ruin it. Whatever, whoever leaked it had done the damage. No need fixating about who now. “Where’s Chris?”

“Murph has him hidden behind a bunch of guys but he wants to go out and deal with them.”

“He can’t do that.” Maddox and Camille echoed. 

“We know. So Murph is helping security corral them.”

Nobody spoke, but everyone wanted to wring the leaker by their neck. Not that what they did was incredibly dangerous, but it was completely annoying and fucking selfish. From her left, she felt someone grab her wrist and instinctively Camille pushed while Maddox pulled them away and Simon seized the offending hand in a wristlock. 

“Hey! It’s me!” Chris whisper-shouted. 

“What the hell are you doing here? Get out through the back.” Simon shoved him away from the lights. 

“No! I’m gonna talk to them. The security has them held back and the police are on their way to arrest them but I need to tell them it’s not ok to do this shit. They should know already fucking know that but they need a reminder.” Camille could hear the Boston accent coming out to play and if she wasn’t so annoyed, she’d be hot for it. 

“You’re going to lose your temper”, Davian matter-of-factly stated. 

“No I won’t”, Chris growled. Oh yes, he was definitely gonna keep his cool. 

“He’s right. You can’t go out there.” Camille calmly mediated. “We can handle this. We have training in dealing with the press.” Well she didn’t but Maddox did and she’s sure she could pick it up quick. 

“I can and I will. I will be professional and everything. Security has already done majority of the job but I can’t just walk away. I’ve doing this since I was 16 and Murph will be up there mediating with me.” 

Now that was a shock. Murph had never mentioned that she liked Chris, let alone tolerated him. 

“You sure you can do it?” Oh great, him. Bacy had graced them with his unwanted presence. “Because there are people here that should not be on candid camera for security purposes.” Camille gave him her best bitch stare. He was not needed right now. 

“Yes. Just shuffle everyone out the back. I’ll text you once they are gone”, Chris insisted while gesticulating wildly. 

Everyone looked at each other. This was a slight security issue, some invitees were under orders to not be photographed, they didn’t exactly have a choice. Security was holding every photographer where they were and the back was clear. Camille chanced a look at Chris, he was fuming but Murph wouldn’t let him get too off-track. And furthermore, she trusted him implicitly and irrevocably. 

“Ok. Let’s get the security issues out first. Make sure their faces are covered with coats, it shouldn’t be too hard, its fucking Boston and its always cold. But, let’s get them out a couple of time. These piranhas might notice a mass of people leaving.” Camille calmly instructed. 

“Agreed. The cops have already been called, so all of them are getting arrested. You all should get out too. We can meet back at Maddox’s place and drink while cursing the person who ratted out Chris.” Simon piggy-backed. 

“Yeah Simon and I will do that. You go home.” Maddox pointed. 

“Absolutely not, this is my job.” Camille indignantly pressured. She wasn’t just going to walk away and let other people do her responsibilities. 

“No this isn’t. Your job is an operational medic and crime scene investigator. There’s a reason Murph never allows you near the press shit. And you’ve been doing this job non-stop for almost 10 years”, Maddox ranted passionately. He gave her a imploring, sad look. “Go home and talk to him. It’s time.”

Camille didn’t want to walk away. This was partially her fault, she should help clean it up. But—Maddox was right. She wasn’t needed. Chris would talk to them for 2 seconds and head home and they would talk later and then the idiots outside would get arrested and everything would be handled. More than half the attendees had already left. Everything was settling down. She wasn’t needed. 

Camille sighed heavily. She couldn’t just leave—“I’ll text you the moment they leave okay?” Camille whipped her head to the voice. It was Chris. “This wasn’t anyone’s fault except the leak ok? Trust me I’ve had a lifetime of learning that lesson”, he promised. 

She hated hesitating, if she hesitated in her job people died. But, she couldn’t help it. She had never just  walked away  from a job before. It was against her nature. But…she trusted everyone in the immediate circle (sans Bacy), if she wasn’t needed, then she wasn’t needed. 

“…Okay. I’ll head home. I’m so sorry for this—” 

“Do not apologize to me, it’s not your fault.” Chris insisted. “It’s all handled. See? Everyone is gone except us and the shits outside.” 

He was right. The ballroom was empty, it was just them. She wasn’t needed.

“Okay I’m going home. Please text—”

“Sweetheart, I promise I will text you the instant they leave” finished Chris. 

“Okay…I’ll see you guys later.” Simon gave her a goodbye hug while Maddox kissed her temple. Chris gently gathered her in his arms and kissed her cheek. Before he let go, he gave her the purse. He had been carrying it the whole time. Giving him a soft smile, she walked towards the back but before she left, she chanced a look at Murph. Murphy gave her a rare, warm smile and nodded. Feeling grounded in her decisions, she walked out the door and hailed a cab. She’d get the car later. 

“Where to miss?” asked the driver. 

“34 Warren Avenue please. I need to talk to someone.” Camille answered and they were off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maddox and Camille's relationship is heavily based off of my sister and I. I really wanted to involve her somehow in this story and Maddox seemed like the perfect conduit. Also, Gilmore Girls bing watching heavily influenced that exchange. This is literally how chaotic it is every time my sister and I have to head somewhere. 
> 
> If anyone has any questions about the various references throughout the chapter, please let me know in the comments. I love hearing from you guys! I'm a big Parks and Rec fan so I had to involve Ben Wyatt somehow. Can anyone remember what he said? Its one of my favorite lines in television and it still makes me giggle like a school girl. 
> 
> I had to put myself in this somehow so I made Cam a Iron Man/RDJ girl. Literally love him to death and my friend did remind me a LOT of Tony Stark. 
> 
> My dearly departed friend was bisexual but she had confessed to me that she didn't like that about herself because girls always thought she was "too straight" and always belittled her. I didn't want Camille to be shamed like that so she is out and proud and Chris loves her even more for it. 
> 
> Also, I want to apologize to anyone if I offend them with the way I portray military in this story. I deeply respect the military and I have absolutely nothing against them. A military man just worked out in this story. Bacy is heavily based off all the men I've met in my major who think woman are too 'soft' for science. I just really wanted to show off BAMF Camille and stick it to the man. Again, I do NOT hate or belittle the military. This is just a story. 
> 
> Another thing, I really wanted Chris's anxiety to be present. He is really open about it and I think it's important to show emotions and feelings especially with men who are always bullied for it. 
> 
> AND FINALLY (I swear I'll stop bugging you guys after this), who do you think Camille is going to 'talk' to? The next chapter was the idea that started this whole story. Hint: if you look up the address 34 Warren Avenue Boston, MA, you'll see where Camille is headed to :)
> 
> As always I love you all that will never change! Please let me know in the comments if you have any criticism, praise, or just hellos they are my lifes blood and follow me at marvelshtrash on Tumblr if you wanna talk <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> This story does not have a title in my head but for the sake of AO3, I give you a weeny-ass title. If you guys have any suggestions, feel free let me know in the comments. Or it can go by a different title in your head, whatever floats your boat.
> 
> Positive feedback, kudos, etc. are much appreciated. If you guys have any questions, feel free to ask! Have a good day loves :)


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